Fighting and Faulkner
by Moniposa
Summary: Phil Brooks, the snarky punk, and April Mendez, the studious scholar, both attend Pons University. Since both of them were born and raised in different social circles, they were never meant to cross paths. But when Phil strikes up a deal with both the president of the university and April, the punk and the scholar may begin to realize they have more in common than they thought.
1. Edgar Allan Poe

**Notes:**

 **/Rubs my little hands together/ I have finally planned out one of my first entirely-planned-out multi-chapter fics and I'm very excited to have it starring my two favorite wrestlers! All I really have to say is that all real names used belong to their respective owners, and enjoy the ride.**

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"This equation isn't quadratic, but rather exponential because it has growth and decay-"

"April," Her friend Celeste groaned, hitting her head again and again on her textbook. "You've already tried explaining this problem to me four times already. Can't we just skip over it?" She looked up at her friend hopefully, clasping her hands together in a mock-prayer stance.

April glanced at her quickly, pushing up the glasses that were perched on her nose. "If you can't get this problem now, then the rest aren't going to make sense either," She replied. She brushed her brown hair behind her ear and let out a small sigh of frustration.

April loved Celeste, she really did, but sometimes her words went in one ear and out the other. Explaining things just became a chore. A really repetitive chore.

The girls had ended up in their current predicament because Celeste had asked her roommate and friend, April Mendez, if she could help her with her math homework. Their professor didn't check if they did homework or not, but he had warned them that if they didn't keep up, then they would more than likely fail their tests if they had no idea what the problems were about. April didn't mind at first, seeing as the lessons that they were learning wasn't too hard for her to understand. That didn't mean she enjoyed the work, but she could still help someone if they needed it. In this case, Celeste needed her help and she obliged. But it wasn't going as smoothly as April thought it would.

"Can't we at least take a break?" Celeste cried, earning a few dirty looks from the other people around them in the campus library. April could see how her friend's eyes would strain against the pages, her hands shaking slightly from the exertion. She gave another sigh; it wasn't fair to let Celeste to be so frazzled about it.

"Okay, but only for fifteen minutes. We still really need to hit the ground running on this," She conceded, looking at Celeste and giving her a small smile.

"Oh God, thanks April." The blonde slunk back into her seat and took out her cellphone, already texting back whoever it was she was holding back on.

April rolled her eyes, but it was all in good humor; she wasn't as serious as everyone thought she was. Truthfully, everyone on her college campus - Pons Colossus University - already thought of her as a serious prude who only cared for her studies. She knew that wasn't entirely true, but it didn't help that she was in the top fifteen percentile of her graduating class in trying to prove them otherwise. Well, not that she had anything to _prove_ ; she didn't care what they thought about her.

Yet, she couldn't help but feel that it wasn't that she wanted to be a top student, but she had already gone through so much in her life that _not_ doing the best that she could would be a total waste.

So here she was, in a great university trying to trudge through her classes to make her mother and sister proud. The only class that April really enjoyed was her Lit class. Even though she was a comic book nerd through and through, she was a sucker for old books - dusty books that never failed to present new themes, characters, and dialogue with a certain flair. She even admired the professor that taught the course; Professor Dumas. April hoped that her life wouldn't have so many roller coasters, and that she would arrive at her destination - her future career - without any distractions, much like her professor.

But she could only reach her goal if she put the pedal to the metal.

Of course, that's why she applied and made sure she got into Pons Colossus University. It was named one of the best colleges in the state, and it was close to giving Harvard and Princeton a run for their money. April wanted to make her mom proud, so through her blood, sweat and tears, she was admitted into the college on a full ride. She was so proud of her, and nothing made her happier.

It may have been a hard life, but she was incredibly happy that she had made it this far. And her friend Celeste, although seemingly ditzy on the surface, was an incredible strategist, so getting into Pons was a no-brainer. What she made up in strategy, she lacked in mathematical analytics which is why she had called for April's help in the first place.

Speaking of Celeste, her friend was now looking at April, clutching her phone in her hands. There was no other way to describe the look in her eyes other than expectancy. She gave a groan, already anticipating what it was that Celeste needed to do now.

"I'm sorry! Phil just texted me and he wants us to meet up," She said, trying to curb April's desire to give her a smack upside the head.

"How and why is Phil more important than our study session?" April was now at a total loss, not even sure if trying to keep the blonde in the library was worth all the hassle. Even more so now that _Phil_ of all people called her over.

"We're on a break anyway, April. And I don't think it should take more than fifteen minutes - half an hour at the most. Please, when I come back I'll study super super hard! Please," Celeste elongated the last 'please', but when she was given another glare from the students around her, she continued whispering her 'please'.

April didn't want to continue fighting her on this if they weren't going to get anywhere in the end. She might as well let her go; besides, if it wasn't going to take that long, then she could do some studying of her own with the free time. And if she'd be back in fifteen minutes . . .

"Fine. But don't take too long - I expect you to be back here as quickly as you can so we can continue and finish this lesson," She rushed out the rest of her words since Celeste was already a flurry of blonde and black hair, gathering the stuff she needed together and leaving her textbook and notebook untouched on the table.

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes! Thank you so much," Celeste whisper-exclaimed as she gave her friend a peck on the cheek and in no time, the winds she had stirred fell flat once she was out the library doors.

April sat a few minutes, looking at the door and wondered where she went wrong.

Sure, studying was a bore, but was Celeste really that eager to get away from her? She'd be the first to admit that she wasn't as fun as the majority of sorority girls and frat boys, but that was because life hardened her! Well . . . it wasn't really an excuse, now that she thought about it. Plenty of people had hard lives, but they still came up on top and seemed to be happy-go-lucky. Even then, she wouldn't be as fun as Phil, _that's_ for sure.

April put her hand to her forehead to hide when she rolled her eyes. Phil Brooks: the student teachers dreaded to have in their class, and the guy other girls (and sometimes other guys) would totally swoon over. April honestly didn't understand his appeal; to her, he was just a disruptive person who thought that his quips were "Grade-A quality", and that he could just talk himself out of any situation he didn't want to deal with because he was just _that_ good.

It annoyed April as a person who tried to be honest whenever she could that some guy could just waltz in and talk his way out of anything. Not only was he a smooth talker, but he had a bad reputation in any relationship he was in. The amount of times she had overheard girls cry out in anguish because he had dumped them and left them to dry, and somehow they still loved him. He was currently dating Celeste, and April didn't want her friend to show her distaste so she kept quiet (for the most part). She never saw them together that much, anyway.

It was hard to stay on the sidelines and see her friend date a guy that she knew would do her wrong. Now that she thought about it, why _did_ she let Celeste be with a guy that was no good for her? A guy that April knew would transform her friend into a broken, love-struck girl if he ever hurt her?

Damn it, she shouldn't have let her go see him! April took out her phone and looked down to check the time. She noticed that Celeste hadn't even been gone ten minutes when April made her decision to go after her.

Just as she was about to gather her things and text the blonde to ask her where she was, the brunette could see the shadow of someone taking Celeste's old seat out of the corner of her eye. To other people, another person - uninvited - coming to sit at their table in the library would have been a surprise and most unwelcome. But April knew who it was, and she gave another tired sigh, setting down her things once more.

"What do you want, Bryan?" She looked back to see that Bryan Danielson was sitting across from her, his blue eyes trained on her so intensely as if she would disappear if he blinked. Technically, he wasn't wrong. He was the last person she wanted to see right now.

"What, I can't sit down and chat with one of my betters?" Bryan gave her a sarcastic look, which she took as a challenge. April knew how much it hurt him to even joke about it, so she took it to her advantage.

"Your better actually has other things _better_ to do, so if you don't mind-" She began to get up, but the look that he gave her suggested that she sit down. She obliged, albeit unwillingly.

April didn't understand how he still had so much control over her, even though he was only a few centimeters taller than her and she was younger than him. The only thing that made her better, was her intellect - in the end, she was smarter than Bryan, and that reflected in their class rank. She was one class rank above him, and it killed him.

"I actually do mind, April. And I need to talk to you about the project Professor Hogan is about to give out," He said leaning towards her, his hands folded on the table.

Prof Hogan was the World History Professor of the university and was known to be - for the most part - very laid-back and fun among both students and co-workers alike. But he was also notorious for giving out projects that were an entire semester's worth of tests, and that in order to succeed, you had to be honest. And he hoped that his students would reflect those values, otherwise they would basically drown in his class. April had chosen the class for the rigor she knew she could handle, and Bryan chose the class because she did. Typical.

"The one about about powerful partnerships throughout history?" April recalled that Hogan insinuated that the project would need "a binderful of documents and stuff" (his words, not hers) in addition to a verbal presentation with two people representing the individuals, countries, dynasties, etc. which is why the project required two people.

"Yeah, and we're supposed to pick partners soon and I have an inkling that you don't have a partner yet." His mouth was curved into a smile that April assumed was anything but friendly.

All of a sudden, April knew where he was going with this conversation.

"No, absolutely _not_ , Danielson." The brunette looked at him in disbelief. She knew him well enough that his idea to become partners were totally laced with bad intentions. She knew that as well as she knew that the earth revolved around the sun.

"Why not, April? We'd be a great pair! On this project, I mean." He held his hands in front of him defensively, hoping that she wouldn't twist his words into something he didn't mean.

"Because you hate me, for starters." She shook her head and pressed her fingers to her temple, praying that she wouldn't end up with a headache from this conversation.

"Well I wouldn't say _hate_ -"

"You want to beat me, then. And don't try to deny it." She finally looked at him fully, noticing that he wasn't the same baby-faced Bryan Danielson that she had first met. Which was all the way back in her first year of college, surprisingly. He now sported a scruffy beard, and it actually made him look like an older guy struggling through his studies.

April didn't mean that he wanted to physically beat her, although she wouldn't be surprised if he did. During their three years in college, Bryan had made it his mission to beat her rank, but he always fell one place behind her. That was his mission ever since he met her - ever since he even heard about her, he had wanted to beat the girl that had come to the university purely based on merit, and not because she had to pay her way through. In his goal to defeat her, she had gotten hurt in the process. She wouldn't have, had he told her what his intentions were.

"I never denied that I still want to beat you-"

"Then what, what is it, Bryan?" She slightly flinched in knowing that he hadn't changed.

"Could you just let me finish?" He exclaimed in frustration, garnering looks from the library patrons at his sudden outburst. He glared at them in response and ran a hand through his beard, trying to gather his bearings.

"Fine," April huffed, crossing her arms. He sure as hell didn't deserve her patience, but he could spit out whatever it was he wanted to say so he could leave sooner, then so be it.

"Look, I know we've been going at each other's throats for months, but that doesn't mean that we couldn't work on this project together. Any other person I would work with in that class wouldn't give me the quality work that I know _you_ are capable of giving, April." Bryan now had his hands clasped around hers, his eyes trying to convince her the honesty of his words.

April pursed her lips and her brown eyes moved from his hands to his face, studying the man and putting two and two together.

"Let me guess; any other person you would work with would lower your grade and your placement even further, is that right?" She felt triumphant when his pupils dilated in being caught between her succinct truth, and his beautified version of the truth. Right there, she noticed the chink in his armor.

"Pretty much," He admitted, letting go of her hands when he knew that he couldn't convince her of something that she saw right through.

"And what if I told you no? I'm not as nice as when you met me, Bryan. Things have changed." Even though April was a serious person already, she had become even moreso when she looked at him. He didn't deserve any kindness from her, that's for sure. Which is what she would've given him, had it been two years ago.

"Things have changed - I don't doubt that. But are you willing to risk your grade because of your pride?" Bryan was back to taunting her.

"I should be asking you that, Bryan. Let me sleep on it," She said finally, gathering her textbooks and notebooks, hoping that he would get the hint.

She didn't even know why she was giving him an opportunity or even a thought that they could possibly work together, but here she was, giving him some sort of hope. Honestly, she just wanted to leave. With every passing second, he was making her increasingly uncomfortable which is something she tended to avoid whenever she could.

"Yeah, sure!" His demeanor immediately brightened as his eyes followed her and she became a flurry of hands and books. His mouth curved into a smirk; he finally got what he wanted. "Should I find you later?"

"Don't," April said simply, adjusting her bookbag strap on her shoulder as she went out the library doors.

Once she breathed in the air outside, she could feel her cluttered head clearing up bit by bit. April didn't know that even a place she considered a second home could be so _stifling_ , although being pestered by unwanted visitors could be partly the reason. She wasn't so adamant about letting people who she liked visit her at the library, but then again, the only person she really liked was Celeste-

Celeste!

Damn it, she forgot that she was the reason April needed to leave the library in the first place. And she didn't even know where her friend was, let alone going off to try and find her. April slid out her phone and quickly tapped out her friend a quick ''where are you?" message, hoping that she would respond as soon as possible.

In the meantime, wandering around the campus sounded like a much better plan than just standing and waiting for Celeste to answer.

The idea was sped up when she heard a wolf whistle seemingly out of nowhere. She glanced around, hoping to see the jerk that whistled at her, and she _knew_ that it was for her because of Bryan's previous actions towards her. Now whenever she was alone and in a public space on campus, she would hear someone whistle at her as if she were some cheap piece of display jewelry to ogle at and grossly admire. April only heard snickering, no matter how quickly her eyes darted around the trees, buildings, and people in trying to connect the sound to the face making it.

The whistling annoyed her more than anything, and April had learned to either deal with it accordingly or just ignore it entirely. She'd be lying though if she didn't admit that she was afraid that the whistling would turn into something else. Something more sinister, like the stories that everyone heard about the girls on campus that were careful, but not careful enough.

April shook her head, trying to dissipate the thoughts and sped forward even more quickly. Her nervousness was making her more antsy.

Where was Celeste?


	2. Ky Hollenbeck

Phil could already see in his mind how everything was going to play out. Being alive for twenty-plus years and having the uncanny gift of being able to talk out of just about anything was bound to do that to someone.

If he got tired of whoever he was with at the moment, Phil would let them go. He wasn't totally cruel, though. He'd sweeten the deal a little by making the other person think it wasn't their fault (although he would sometimes feel as if the fault was partly theirs if the chick was crazy enough), and leave them with whatever feelings they had still intact. He would continue on with his life, chasing another a skirt, and their lips would quiver whenever he passed by - a memory of a different time. Lather, rinse, repeat.

He also didn't intend to be mean when he broke up with them; on the contrary, seeing girls cry made him fifty shades of uncomfortable. On certain occasions, it was a necessary evil. Otherwise they'd be super pissed, which would end up biting him in the ass later at the worst time instead of them just crying and speeding off. That hadn't happened to Phil (and he was hoping that it wouldn't happen anytime soon), and he was actually quite satisfied with the convenience of his charms.

At the moment, he was dating Celeste Bonin, a girl that not only had the looks, but the brains to go along with it. She was the whole package, and plenty of other guys had noticed that. But she noticed him first, and it gave him the upper hand. He saw the way other guys would glare at him whenever they passed by together. And Phil, being the charming man that he was, would give them a shit-eating grin that would put comic book villains to shame.

He had fun with Celeste; how couldn't he? She was just an overall bubbly person to be around, and they always skipped classes together to go to this club where underground bands would go play, hoping they would get their big break. They even did little drawings on the university president's car, doing it in a colored permanent marker that didn't really show up on the car unless you looked at it closely. The president never noticed.

But now he felt the initial attraction waning, their escapades not being as fun anymore, and he soon found himself bored with her. He wasn't surprised - Phil was such a flighty person that he knew he wouldn't stick with her for too long, but he was more surprised that he was with her as long as he was. Most of that was probably thanks to her friend, April, who would glare daggers at him whenever she saw them together, and whenever it looked like he was stepping out of line.

Phil and April actually didn't talk to each other much, considering that he _was_ dating her friend. He wasn't too keen on having a full-blown conversation with her - Celeste's slight mentions of the brunette was more than enough to get his fill of the infamous scholar, April Mendez. And he didn't want to talk to her, really. He didn't want his death certificate to read 'Phil Brooks, Born: Yada yada, Died: Yada yada, Cause of Death: Being bored to death by April'. Luckily for him, he was able to steer clear of her for five months - had it been five months already? Damn, how time flies. Just goes to show how much he really needed to break up with Celeste.

She was nice enough; hopefully it wouldn't go too bad.

He took out his phone and sent the message: Meet me up by the quads whenever.

He knew that the 'whenever' would get her to come straight away, which was exactly what he wanted. It's all about language and how you use it in getting people to do whatever you want. With as much talent and skill as Phil had, he was baffled that he hadn't started a class for this stuff. He would be able to make a fortune in no time. But with great power comes great responsibility, and with half of the human population not having a clue on how to handle responsibility maybe it was better that he wasn't dishing out his secrets so easily.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Phil began to make his trek towards the quads. He considered skipping class afterwards, but he had a feeling that Celeste would probably do the same. He needed to avoid her more than ever and as much as he didn't like going to class, he'd have to trudge through it anyway.

But there was nothing he wanted more than to go to the gym and practice his side kicks and bolo punches on the stiff, yet willing punching bag. Even though a lot of people hated him, they didn't have the balls to mess with him since his lip ring and brooding features were already intimidating. As if it wasn't enough, he also did kickboxing recreationally and was actually _good_ at it. They weren't willing to square up with a guy that said he could kick their ass, and have the moves to back it up. And how couldn't he? He'd been doing it for so long that it became as natural as breathing.

Ever since he was a kid, his dad had taught him not to take shit from anyone, especially anyone who was all talk and no action. In order to avoid becoming one of those people, Phil's dad took him to the Chicago-based gym where he trained kickboxers for a living, and young Phil was able to see first-hand how difficult and liberating the sport was. The swift kicks, the punches that on the surface looked feather-light, but one could see how the muscles would contract in the arm that was throwing it - he found it all to be fascinating.

When his dad was fast asleep, Phil would go to his basement and try to recreate the kicks and punches that he had seen others in the ring do so many times. He would come out with bruised knuckles the next day, and his father never asked him about it. In no time, he asked his pops if he could jump in the ring and go against one of his youngest fighters. He felt that his skills were a hell of a lot better than when he first started out, and he wanted to surprise his dad with his tenacity. In all honesty, he wanted to show off and demonstrate that he had picked up some moves without his dad's help.

Needless to say, he got his ass beat to a pulp.

But instead of his father reprimanding him, he gave Phil a slap on the back (that was totally covered in bruises) and told him that he had guts. It was then that he began training at the gym and would spar with the guy who had pummeled him, among others. He couldn't forget the amount of times that he had come home as a teenager, bloody and bruised, with his ma yelling at him to stop pulling stupid stunts like going into the ring and then her giving him ice packs for his body. She hated how he let himself be used like a human punching bag, but because she loved her son and wanted him to be happy, she allowed it.

With the continuous training, his sloppy moves had gotten tighter; better. Anticipating his opponent's moves became less like being a blinded fish in the sea, and more like a shark surrounded by willing prey. Phil became impassioned with the sport and he loved the way his adrenaline started pumping when he was facing off against someone in the ring, and the resounding smack when leg connected with torso.

He became better than he had anticipated, and Phil and his father became as close as a healthy relationship a parent and their child could have. And the fact that chicks totally dig a guy that can throw a punch with technical skill was just a bonus. Okay, knowing how he was it was a _huge_ bonus to have girls flock to him. But saying that outloud would only earn him a smack upside the head from his father.

And even after his old man was already six feet under, he still continued kickboxing and managed the gym whenever he could, even though it was rundown. It didn't look as good as it did in its prime.

Phil wanted to be at the gym full-time more than anything, but his ma wouldn't allow it; said that education should come first before anything. And the thing is, he wasn't _entirely_ stupid, but more like he was lazy. There were some classes that he struggled in, but he didn't care enough for it. Even though he and his mother paid for him to get into this top-notch university, he didn't care about it enough to excel in his classes.

His next class was going to start in about fifteen minutes, so if he was going to get this over with, Celeste needed to show up soon.

Once he reached the quads, he took out his phone to see if he had gotten any messages and noticed that he had a new one from Celeste, saying 'I'll be there in a few!' which was sent to him five minutes ago. Hopefully she would be here in a minute or two, knowing how fast she came to him whenever he beckoned.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he looked up to see April wandering around in the opposite direction from him, her glasses skewed and the textbooks in her hands in disarray. She looked like such a dorky, disorganized mess that he didn't spare her a second glance as he sat down on one of the benches placed around the campus. Phil didn't have to wait long because eventually he saw Celeste coming towards him, a huge grin on her face. Oh boy.

"Hey Phil," She said, sitting down next to him on the bench. She brushed her blonde and black hair back, her eyes glittering at having her boyfriend call for her.

Phil decided that sitting down wouldn't rouse as much suspicion as if we was standing up in front of her, so he sat a reasonable distance away from her - not too close to suggest that he would lead her on, and not too far away that she would wonder what was wrong. Keeping his face his oh-so charming neutral, he looked at Celeste and she was immediately captivated.

"Celeste, remember that time we went to the dunes, and we rode those ATVs?" His mouth curved into a little smile. Come on, Phil; friendly, but not intimate.

"Yeah, we went to the beach for a while and then we got bored and rented those ATVs," She replied, taking his hands in hers. Shaking her off would be too obvious, so he let her grab his hands, but he didn't squeeze in response. The little things that he did, or didn't do, would sneak into her subconscious and work small wonders in his favor.

"And you wore that swimsuit that you had gotten that day?" Make it seem like the things he remembered were something worth memorising, when in actuality it was a fact that had happened that day. It sweetens the pain slightly.

Celeste giggled and moved slightly towards him, making him move an inch back in response. "Mhm, and the sunset was beautiful."

"But before that, there was that nest of birds that we had seen on the ground because they'd fallen, right?" Alright, here comes the smooth.

She looked down at their hands, her eyes and mouth pinched in sadness at recalling the event. "They were babies and they didn't look like they were going to make it. We had to let them go," She sighed, looking up at his eyes again. He nodded solemnly.

"And we're just like those birds, Celeste." Phil slid his hands out of hers and he saw her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She was genuinely confused at where he was going with this whole story. How were a flock of birds relevant to them?

"It's been one hell of a run, but like those birds, I'm going to have to let you go." He made sure his eyes crinkled and his eyebrows were slightly drawn together so it looked like it hurt him to do this, but he was actually so full of shit.

The shine that was in her eyes soon ceased to exist entirely.

Bingo.

Phil was sure that Celeste's quietness would let him be off the hook much easier, seeing as she wasn't saying anything at all. All of a sudden, she let out a blood-curdling screech that made him draw back and widen his eyes in surprise. What the hell?! What was the matter with her!

The scream cut off immediately into sobs, and he began to look around, noticing that other people were giving him and Celeste dirty looks; why was this guy and this girl making such a scene in public? Didn't they have any sort of modesty? Poor girl, she looked broken.

No no no no no sobbing in public, no crying, goddammit! He could never deal with crying girls, and never to this extreme. What was he supposed to do? He tried patting her shoulder, but for some reason it made her cry even harder. He put his hand down immediately and thought it was better to leave her to her crying episode. As Phil was about to get up, Celeste whipped her head to stare up at him, her tears making tracks on her cheeks and were blackened by her mascara.

"Are you saying you're breaking up with me? I-I thought everything was going fine!" Celeste dragged her hands through her hair, creating a tornado of blonde and black hair in the process.

Now it was getting bad - he had to get out before it could get any worse. "Celeste-"

"What the ever-loving _hell_ do you think you're _doing,_ Phil?" A voice rang out to the left of him.

Out of all people, why the hell did it have to be her? God _fucking_ damnit!

April Mendez made a beeline towards the disaster that was supposed to be an easy breakup and stood in front of Celeste like some sort of knight, or in her case, scholar in shining armor. She stood about a foot and a half shorter than Phil, but at that moment, she looked like she was ready to beat his ass.

"Me? I'm just trying to do what's best for the both of us-" He began, trying to justify something that shouldn't been of April's concern, but he found himself doing it anyway. Sure, she was her friend but he didn't owe her anything.

"He was breaking up with me, April," She wailed, clutching to her friend in the form of some faux-shield. April started to pat her friend's hands reassuringly, and soon enough Celeste began to calm down. What a drama queen! He never imagined she would react like this.

"You know, you have a lot of nerve breaking up with someone in public, Brooks. Huge goddamn _cajones_. And you think smooth talking your way out of a relationship and into another isn't going to come back and bite you right in the ass, but you're wrong! Dead wrong. Because this time, you aren't going to break up with this girl," She spat, pointing at Celeste with one finger and jabbing the other at Phil's chest, making sure to get into his personal space.

"And why is that?" He took that as a challenge and moved closer to her, his hypnotizing eyes narrowed into something incredibly venomous, and his lips pulled back in a scowl. Who the hell did she think she was?

"You're not dumping her, because she's dumping your ass!" She grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards her close enough that he could smell the wildflower perfume on her skin.

Their noses were almost touching and April gave him a triumphant grin, mistaking his surprised/confused look on his face with the ferocity of her words, rather than the smell he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about. When she was sure that she had gotten her point across, she shoved him back and began to walk away with Celeste following close behind her. The blonde shot him a glare and continued to walk with her.

Phil knew he was supposed to feel pissed that April had turned the tables on his own game, but he couldn't help but feel a bit impressed at her resilience and daring to step up to him when a lot of people wouldn't even look in his direction. He stared after her - he also had never heard the goody-goody book nerd swear so much in his life. What was with this girl?  
Phil took out his phone to check the time and noticed that class would start in three minutes if he didn't haul ass.

Hoping that Celeste _had_ skipped class so he wouldn't relive the embarrassment that was the breakup, Phil made his way towards his Sociology class. It was taught by Professor Stratus who was known to be a babe among the students, but she ruled the class with an iron fist, so it kind of balanced out. She also had a zero-tolerance policy for tardiness, and he now had to break into a sprint if he was going to make it to the class in one piece.

He was a millisecond close to having the door shut in his face, but Phil was able to pass through with the agility and ease a person who trains in their freetime is only able to do. He was about to go sit in the back along with the rest of the slackers, but he had completely forgotten that April was in that class too, and she was sitting there like some sort of sociology vigilante. For some reason, Phil totally forgot that life was a cruel joke and he was the punchline. Once he stepped into the room, her eyes zeroed in on him and she looked as if the phrase 'shooting daggers' wasn't enough - she was firing machetes at him at this point.

Phil decided that he didn't really need to sit in the back, and for now sitting in the boring middle would be just fine. He shrugged into the seat with as much energy as a sloth and began to tap his desk with one hand and lean lazily into the other. He didn't bring any of his things with him, and why should he? He didn't study, and he didn't take notes. April should totally learn from him.

He recalled that the class was a two hour block, and it seemed like taking a nap was a well enough plan to pass the time. Phil had the tendency to not be yelled at by any of his teachers for his blaise antics; they had learned soon enough that he wouldn't listen to them, no matter how many times they reprimanded him. And if they did, he would just talk his way out of it like he always did.

Phil didn't even get to catch some z's for twenty minutes when there was a booming knock on the door that resounded throughout the entire lecture hall.

"Phillip Brooks, they're requesting your presence in the office," Professor Stratus bit out, upset that out of all people, it had to be Phil interrupting her lecture in some form or another.

Phil jerked his head up from his nap, his face dazed and confused. "Wha-"

"Office. Now," She said in finality, jabbing her finger towards the door.

He rolled his eyes and made his way down the aisles, completely aware that people were staring after him. It felt magnified times ten when he could also feel April's stare on the center of his back.

He shut the door behind him on his way out and began to make his way towards the office, or "TLC - The Luxurious Cage" as others tended to call it. It had various hallways with secretaries scattered in them, and they all lead to the main room which was huge and circular, much like the oval office. Mahogany doors were on every facet of the main room, leading into other offices for the deans, the counselors, the vice president and the president. Each door had a plaque on the center of the door, designating who the office belonged to. The president's office was front and foremost, much like a conversation piece.

He had already gotten used to going there often, what with all the antics he pulled on a daily basis. The secretaries weren't surprised to see him there anymore; they'd gotten desensitized to it, much to Phil's disappointment. But, if that meant less glares directed towards him, the better.

"President McMahon will see you now," One of the secretaries directed towards him, not looking up as her fingers continued to tap away on her keyboard.

"Thanks," He said dryly, taking strides towards the center door. He usually went to one of the deans or counselors, so going directly to the president was an unpleasant surprise. Why was he here, of all places?

Phil ran his hand through his short, ruffled hair and raised his hand to knock on the door but was stopped with a voice resounding through on the other side.

"Come in," President McMahon boomed, making him do a double take. The door was closed; how could he already feel his presence on the other side?

He hesitated slightly before turning the bronze knob and going inside, quickly shutting the door behind him.

The office looked just like how any pompous man would make his office look like if he had the dough for it. A long array of windows covered the back beige wall where his desk was placed. The width allowed him to look below at the campus, his dominion, with relative ease. On either side of the office was an array of trophies and plaques, some demonstrating his strength and agility in sports like golf and wrestling, and others congratulating him on his success of becoming principal, dean, president - physical reminders of his milestones.

The carpets were a deep burgundy that looked like they could never be worn down or dirtied, no matter how many years had passed. Two dark brown leather chairs were turned towards the desk, much like two children waiting fro a scolding from their father. McMahon's desk sat as a centerpiece for the center piece office, the wood sleek and secure. The papers stacked on it looked crisp, but the thing that stood out most to him was the nameplate that read 'President Vincent McMahon' in an elegant engraving.

Phil hated all of it.

He saw that Vince sat behind the desk in a chair that reached way past his salt and pepper haired head. His dark, calculating eyes were centered on Phil, but his mouth contrasted with his eyes in that it was upturned into a smile.

"Have a seat, Philip," Vince said, his hand outstretched and directing him to the chair to the left of him.

He actually _didn't_ want to sit in that chair as much as possible. For some reason, being in this room more than he should made his skin crawl.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Phil said, choosing to stand in between the chairs rather than sit in either.

Vince didn't say anything for a few seconds before standing up from his chair and walking towards the college student. Phil could now see that he had a navy blue suit that seemed most appropriate for the office.

"Mr. Brooks, I heard you caused quite a commotion on campus today." His tone matched the bottom half of his face perfectly, but Phil still didn't trust the upper half.

"Word goes around here pretty fast, huh? I'm surprised people are already gossiping about it, seeing as it's none of their business," He replied, his words absolutely scathing but his voice light. People were looking at them when the whole breakup was going down, but he never expected it to reach the office.

"Rest assured, the talk is going to die down soon. What I'm not sure what's going to die down, though, is your reputation." McMahon began to move away from the chair and pace around in front of his desk. His eyes were trained on the other man, trying to study him.

"What are you insinuating, McMahon?" Phil wanted him to cut the bullshit and get right down to why he was in this grand office.

"I'm insinuating that you're a complete nuisance to this university. You've caused nothing but trouble since you first stepped foot on this campus and I have more than enough grounds for expulsion." His entire face was now cold and calculating as he stood in front of Phil and faced him head-on.

Phil wasn't the kind of guy to back down from a challenge, so his posture automatically straightened, and he looked down at the president, his face entirely grim. But he also couldn't help but feel his blood run cold.

Expulsion? He wouldn't dare.

Would he?

 **NOTES:**

 **Please, don't hesitate in favoriting/following/reviewing! It helps me a lot, it really does. Knowing that people like my stuff gives me a lot of drive! So please, help me out a little here :~)**


	3. Jane Austen & Daniel Dawson

"In spite of that, I have a proposition for you," Vince said when Phil became unnervingly quiet. When he was sure that the other man was listening to him, he went back to his pacing in front of his desk.

"What kind of proposition?" Phil tried to look disinterested as he crossed his arms over his chest. But if there was some way for him to stay here so he wouldn't have to face his disappointed mother, then he was all for it. He just couldn't show it.

"For the rest of this year, you must excel in your studies, and you must be with a respectable young lady so this ridiculous heartbreaker persona that you have among the people on this campus. You also need to stop misbehaving - that is my proposition." Vince went back to his desk, utter confidence evident in his step. He slid back into his seat, turning the chair towards the windows so he was now facing the campus.

"And what if I refuse?" He replied, making sure his voice was level so it wouldn't reflect the bubbling anger he held inside.

Phil wanted nothing more than to rage and complain that there was no way in hell he would agree to such a deal. He was lazy towards his education by nature, and he loved jumping from girl to girl - he just couldn't deal with long-term relationships. And now he was being tied down? By someone that had no business tying him down and trying to make him be a nerd? Hell no.

"Then I'll expel you and make sure that no college or university will take you ever again," Vince said in such a calm, normal voice that Phil had to do a double take. There really was no way out of this, was there? Goddamnit.

"Fine," Phil conceded. "But there's gotta be a catch, right? What are you getting out of this, McMahon?" His eyes narrowed as the president turned back to face the student. Vince's hands were clasped together like some sort of 1940's mafia villain.

"Just having you and the rest of the staff off of my back, and this university finally having some peace is enough for me. And if you fail horribly then I never have to see you again. It's a win-win for me, you see. No catch." Vince's smile was absolutely venomous.

"And if I do all of that, you won't kick me out?" He wouldn't have to disappoint his mom? That was the worst thing, honestly. To know that after all that work she did to put him in here, just a few signed papers and whispered words would get him out - for good. She would never forgive him.

"You have my word." Vince held out his hand for Phil to shake it, and after a few seconds of hesitation, he reached over and grasped the older man's hand.

"Before you leave, Mr. Brooks, I forgot to mention that I need physical proof of your relationship; say, going to one of the university dances together. I may not be on campus to view it, but I have eyes and ears everywhere." Vince squeezed Phil's hand tightly once more before letting their hands fall, the contract sealed.

Silently, he left Vince's office and eventually the main building in a blind stupor. How was he supposed to pull something like that off? Well, it wouldn't be that difficult since girls had the tendency to fall all over him, but nerdy chicks? He wasn't really fond of them. He tended to avoid them as much as he could, and they did the same. But could he find a smart, respectable girl off campus? Most likely, but did he really want to put in all that effort? Nah.

So he was left to search on campus. _Fantastic_ , he thought sarcastically.

Who the hell could he find?

Phil looked up to see that his legs had been on autopilot, and he was being lead back to the building he was just casted out from. A stream of students were coming out, most of them from Professor Stratus' lecture hall and they were chatting away.

The last person that came out ended up being April, and that's when it hit him.

He'd have to ask April.

Phil's eyes brightened, but before he could take a step in her direction, he paused. He had forgotten that she totally hated him; how would it look like if he asked her for a favor? Not very well, Phil guessed. April would probably give him a punch to the face, although he wouldn't let her fist go anywhere near him. Still, she was one of the only chances he had to get him out of this predicament, however ridiculous it may be.

Phil was going to have to wear her down then, one way or another.

He swallowed his nervousness (where the hell did that come from?) and made his way towards her.

...

April could feel someone boring a hole down her back.

Ever since the whole situation with Bryan, she had become the target to many peoples' eyes, their judgement and derision tangible even though she couldn't see it - not always. In time, she was able to ignore it with a certain grace that lessened the stares.

But right now she wanted to look and and try to scope out whoever it was that was bothering her, but she knew that she would look paranoid. Taking in a deep breath, April clutched her textbooks closer to her and kept walking towards her dorms. She wanted to drop off some of her books and pick up some others before she went to the auditorium and tried to do some of her studying there. Usually the only people in the auditorium were the theatre students, among others, preparing for any sort of performance that was coming up soon.

Her thoughts were able to put her into a state of ease until she sensed someone walking next to her. Heaving a heavy sigh, April decided to glance up at the stranger next to her - wow, she was just really popular with strangers today. Or so it seemed.

Imagine her surprise when she sees Phil Brooks walking next to her, whistling a happy-go-lucky tune as if she didn't just chew him out a few hours ago.

April hoped that he didn't see her look up at him, so she began to lengthen her strides, trying to pick up her pace. He matched it with ease without breaking a sweat.

She didn't want to emit a hiss of frustration, so she decided losing him would be her best bet. When she was sure that he was caught unaware, she took a turn to the left to the center of the campus. Luckily for her, a plethora of students had gathered to participate in one of the university's quarterly rallies and hundreds upon hundreds of students were clumped together. April gave a triumphant grin as she used her short stature to her advantage to sink into the crowd with Phil becoming as lost as a memory.

Why the hell was he following her in the first place? And why couldn't she just confront him about it like she stood up to him for Celeste? It was a total mystery to her, but she didn't stop to think about it - she had to weave her way through the crowd and get to the other side where the campus auditorium was waiting for her.

April was already sighing in relief - the auditorium was so close and she wouldn't have to deal with Phil, or see his face; the world was wonderful if she could just make it out in one piece -

Aha! Just as she reached the last person in the crowd, she emerged victorious and allowed herself a quick 'yes' gesture before continuing on her trek with a slight kick in her step.

She looked behind her one more time to make sure Phil wasn't anywhere near her and she was satisfied when she didn't see mussed hair, green eyes, and a lip ring. When she turned back, she bumped into someone and her books spilled from her hands in sudden surprise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to barge into you," She said with genuine regret. In her flurry to move forward, she didn't notice anyone standing in front of her.

The girl bent down to pick up her open textbooks and scattered notes, and saw out of the corner of her eye the stranger bending down to pick up some of her sociology assignments. She reached over to pick up the textbook, and the stranger had the same idea apparently, and their hands brushed. A slight electric current passed between their hands and April looked up in surprise, wondering who the person was.

When her hazel eyes met a pair of green ones, she immediately recoiled.

Of course it was freaking Phil Brooks.

April narrowed her eyes and quickly gathered her things, sweeping them back into her arms in one swift motion. How did he get ahead of her? April swore she didn't see him in front of her or behind her - where the hell did he come from?

"What do you want, Phil?" She stood up and ignored the way his eyes followed her every motion as if studying her (she bet that was the only form of studying he ever did on campus).

"First of all, I want to know why you took off like a bat out of hell - it's a hassle trying to find someone when they're three feet tall," He let out a biting laugh. April could tell he was trying to joke her dashing off on him, but it wasn't working in the slightest.

"I don't think anyone would take too kindly to someone _following_ them. And by the way, I'm 5'2" thank you very much," She hissed, shooting him a very well-deserved glare. He didn't have the right to make fun of her height when he looked like a huge tree.

"Still pretty short," He shot back, savoring the way she was like a small, annoying dog when she seethed. "And I wasn't following you; or at least, that wasn't my intention."

"Then what was your intention if it wasn't to stalk me?"

"I wasn't - forget about it, April. Anyway, I needed to ask you something," Phil replied in frustration. He tried to bite down the other words he wanted to say to excuse himself, but he decided that swallowing his pride for the second time today might work better in his favor.

April ignored the way her body reacted weirdly to him saying her name and responded japingly. "Ask me something? What, do you want to know if you still have half a brain? Because I can answer that for you right now; no. Obviously, no." She brushed her hair behind her ear with a smile of satisfaction. Maybe now he would leave her alone.

Phil rolled his eyes and brushed off her snide comment. "No, that wasn't it, smart ass. I wanted to know if you would go out with me?"

April's heart skipped a beat.

She stopped walking, struggling to keep her books in her hands through her disbelief. What the hell was he trying to pull? Did he think this was some sort of _joke_? That she'd laugh about it?

"How _dare_ you? Breaking up with Celeste - you think this is funny, Brooks?" She looked up at him with disgust and tried to speed away. April didn't notice the way he did a double-take and strode to keep up with her.

"Funny? What, no - I meant if you would go out with me, but not really," He replied, trying to gather his bearings. It was becoming extremely difficult since April was still trying to actively get rid of him while he was trying to organize his thoughts. She was one of his few chances of not getting expelled - he needed to stop tripping over his own tongue.

"What are you trying to get at?" April had no idea why she was still listening to this idiot, yet here she was, walking in tandem with him. She could see the auditorium in the distance, so she wouldn't have to listen to Phil Brooks for too long.

Phil wouldn't admit it, but he was slightly surprised that she was still walking next to him, listening to him tripping over his words. He had just broken up with her friend, so she had every reason to ignore him and not reply to him, but April was. He shook his head and continued on with her prompting.

"I'm saying we would be dating with all the social things that couples usually do, but without being an _actual_ couple." Phil wasn't entirely satisfied with his answer, but it was sufficient for what he was trying to get at. He looked over to see what April was thinking, and he saw that her mouth was formed into a steely line; her eyes unreadable.

"So a fake girlfriend? And why the hell would I do that?" She tossed her chestnut hair back and pushed her glasses back on the bridge of her nose. She glanced up at him, hoping it was still some sort of joke and he was now lying, but there wasn't a playful glimmer in his eyes - he was utterly serious.

Now, Phil wasn't sure if he would take the route where he was honest with April and tell her about the deal with the president, or if he would make something up on the fly that would hopefully convince her. If he went with the first route, he was almost ninety-nine percent sure how she would react - why should she help him? He screwed her friend over, and she doesn't owe him any favors. A swift, succinct no. He wouldn't leave it at that, but that was besides the point. Right now, he needed some sort of favorable response.

If Phil went with the second route, her response wouldn't be as stable. He wasn't sure of the outcome if he were to say, for example, that he needed a fake girlfriend because his mother was dying and wanted to see him with someone before she was gone. He didn't know April's moral duties as far as fulfilling a dying person's request, if the dying person in question was the mother of person she hated.

His reliance on sure-fire outcomes made his decision for him.

"Because I'll get expelled if I don't," He said after a pause that allowed him to gather his bearings. He was now looking on April head-on, noticing the way her eyes were squinting in thinking that his response was ridiculous.

"Elaborate," She replied, her curiosity now piqued. Dang it, she really needed to reel herself back - she should hate this guy! But what did he mean? What was he getting at? And what did getting a fake girlfriend have to do with not getting expelled? She waited for his response.

"Well, the president doesn't like my attitude. Which is pretty great if you ask me - " April gave him a warning look and he pulled back on his joking immediately. "But anyway, he's tired of it and wants me expelled. But the old man says he won't make me leave if I 'excel in my studies, and get with a respectable young lady so my ridiculous heartbreaker persona that I have dies down.' His words, not mine."

He answered her in such a level tone that April looked up at him to make sure he wasn't totally fine with this whole situation, but she couldn't see anything other than his lips in a grim line and his eyebrows furrowed in seriousness. April blinked, trying to absorb the information that he had just fed her and looked up at the cloudless sky.

"And what does this have to do with me?"

Phil emitted a small sigh, grateful that she was still listening to him. "Well, you're super smart, right? And you're as respectable as it can get on this campus - you're the only other person that can help me out of this goddamn mess." He tried to hide it, but his emerald eyes were now sparkling with hope - maybe she wasn't so frigid after all-

"And what makes you think I'm going to help you at all, Brooks?"

-or maybe she was the industrial freezer on this godforsaken campus.

"Why the hell not?" He had the gall to act offended, which was a huge mistake on his part.

April shook her head in disbelief.

"'Why the hell not?' I'll tell you why." April now felt her courage bubbling up again now that she was standing in front of the auditorium doors. "You hurt my friend unnecessarily. You've made so many girls' lives a living hell, and I don't have any reason to help you, especially if I'm not getting anything out of it. And besides, you deserve to be expelled. You have no right to be on this campus, and I'll be glad to be rid of you," She said with such vigor and venom that Phil paused mid-walk.

She wasn't wrong . . . but that didn't mean he was going to piss off just because she said no. This was his life on the line - his mother's faith placed on him. There was no way in hell that he was going to take her no for a final answer.

"Goodbye." April's eyes were cold; calculating. They looked much like Vince's eyes before and it riled Phil up even more.

She slipped behind the door she was standing in front of and shut it in finality, leaving Phil staring at the door in concentration. He tried to tug the door open but it had locked up.

April knew that you could only open the door if you opened it a certain way, but Phil didn't know that. She leaned on the door once she had shut it, feeling him tugging it on it from the other side.

She may not have known Phil that well, but she had a feeling that this wasn't the last of him.

And she was right.


	4. Sylvia Plath

April couldn't remember the last time she wanted to claw her own eyes out.

Since the moment she was born, there probably _wasn't_ a time she had ever wanted to claw her eyes out. Ever. But somehow, Phil was able to make the impossible possible.

Day in and day out, the punk would pursue her after class - he didn't even make it subtle. His strides would match hers and he would try to actually _talk_ to her, much to April's annoyance. The guy was a constant chatterbox, may it be about classes, about what he did on the weekends (unsavory things that made April cover her ears and he would laugh), and surprisingly, about the kickboxing gym that he partly ran.

"You do kickboxing?" April asked dubiously, hating herself for being so curious.

Well, it actually wasn't too hard to believe, what with the cords of muscle that seemed to run through his arms every time he flexed. It was something she noticed clinically - much different from the way girls usually admired him. Now that she mentioned it, Phil was very statuesque; of course he was going to do sports whenever he could. It would be a waste if he didn't. But then again, he lacked sportsmanship, so maybe it was better that he wasn't involved in team-centered sports.

He'd probably punch someone before he'd work with them willingly.

"Yeah, it runs in the family," He replied with pride as a cocky grin slipped into place. "I could teach you some moves sometime if you're game?" His words were phrased with the innocence of a suggestion, but his eyes told her that he was all-too willing to help her step into the ring.

"You, teach me? In your deepest, farthest dreams," She scoffed, rolling her eyes at the taller man.

Phil held his hands up in consideration. "Alright, so I may not be able to teach you, but you can totally teach me, right? Specifically in World History studies, eh?" He raised his eyebrows as he egged her on, hoping that she would take him up on his offer.

But of course, April brushed him off, but he continued with his banter, day after day after day. April had never known a person could talk so much, yet here he was continuously walking next to her for _weeks_ even as she continuously told him no.

She wasn't sure why she hadn't just gotten a restraining order on him - it would have made her life so much easier.

But she had already gotten used to Phil's annoyance that it already seemed far too late to get rid of him now.

And so they continued like this in between classes, during lunch, dinner; any kind of break that allowed Phil to push her to do his bidding. Yet April was steadfast on telling him no - she wouldn't be bothered by such a ridiculous request, and from him of all people.

In addition to April being pursued by him every day, she was getting more and more looks from students and teachers on campus as the girl that Phil Brooks couldn't have.

They misinterpreted him asking for her help as him trying to court her. Of course it wasn't true, but the others didn't know that. And April didn't have the nerve to correct all of them when they would probably think that she was lying. It annoyed her, along with Phil's persistence. She didn't have a moment's rest, and to make matters worse, Celeste also thought that Phil was trying to date her.

"So what's with all these rumors flying around, April?" Her friend asked her innocently, sitting cross-legged in their dorm room. It seemed like that was the only place April had any privacy (other than the bathroom) on the entirety of the campus.

"What rumors?" April replied in between chewing of her chocolate chip cookie. She didn't know about the rumors until Celeste had asked her about it.

"You know, about Phil wanting to date you." Celeste's voice was completely neutral as her friend spit out her cookie in surprise.

"What? That's absurd! Why would Phil want to date me?" She tried not to choke on the pieces of her cookie that were still stuck in her throat.

April felt a pang of guilt - it wasn't technically false. He said that he wanted to date her, but it wouldn't be real. It didn't matter, though because other people wouldn't be able to tell the difference between real and fake dating. But she didn't want Celeste to think that she actually wanted to be pursued by her friend's ex! That was ridiculous.

"Well, he has been talking and walking with you a lot lately, and he doesn't really do that with other girls." Celeste had an 'I would know' look in her blue eyes that made April pause in her answer.

If Phil decided to tell everyone why he kept bothering her, that was on him. What April could do now, though, was be partially honest with her best friend.

"That's what it seems like. But know that I would never date the guy that hurt you, Celeste," She said with such vigor that it took Celeste aback with surprise. April had never been anything but honest with her, so she accepted her response with a smile.

The brunette patted her friend's hand after she had brushed the crumbs off of her blouse.

Celeste never asked her about Phil after that, and April was extremely grateful for it.

She knew that convincing others - if the occasion ever arose - wouldn't be as easy, and she hoped that the rumor wouldn't spread far, even though she swore over and over again that she didn't care what others thought of her. April prided herself in looking out for herself, her friends, and her family that she never had to think about how others thought of her. But now she had to watch herself at every turn, even though Phil was always there.

It was a Tuesday when April was coming out of her advanced physics class, wanting to go to the combined cafe and bookstore that was off campus so she could get some of her literature paper done. She had been putting it off for days because Phil's chattering had become more and more recurrent that she had zero time for herself lately to do any sort of work.

"Are you one-hundred percent positive that you're not going to help me at all?" Phil shoved his hands in his pockets and arched a single eyebrow at her, still questioning her stasis.

"My response to you is still the same as it's been for weeks, and it's still -"

April paused when a long, resounding whistle rang out to the left of her.

She stopped mid-sentence and looked around to where she thought she heard the whistle, but all she saw were people - a sea of faces that looked immersed in whatever it was that they were doing. April looked around again when she heard snickers, and for the first time since she heard those whistles, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

It was one thing to have to deal with it on her own, but it was another to have someone present while it happened to her. It was beyond mortifying.

Phil noticed her silence - no matter how much he bothered her, April was never willingly quiet. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," She said after an extended period of silence.

Her response obviously wasn't enough for him, and he looked around for the sound that had bothered her. "Was that a whistle I heard? No, it was more like a wolf-whistle. And don't tell me it's nothing because it obviously bothered you." Phil cut her off when she began to excuse herself again.

Since lying to him wouldn't get her out of this awkward situation, she relied on her halfway honesty.

"It _was_ a whistle, but it doesn't bother me as much as it used to, as difficult as that sounds." April continued ahead, clutching her bag with her laptop and books for dear life. Again, she was partially right; it didn't bother her as much as it used to. But it still was a huge burden to be constantly whistled at.

"'Used to'? Are you telling me this has been happening for a while? That's not fucking okay," He exclaimed in disbelief and fury. Sure, Phil never failed to appreciate the female figure, but wolf whistling definitely wasn't the way to go about it. No one should get used to it - absolutely no one.

"It doesn't matter. It'll stop soon enough," She added when he gave her another look. Besides, why was he upset on her behalf? He didn't owe her anything.

"But what if it doesn't stop? What if it gets worse-" He began to argue, but April cut him off swiftly.

"If it does, I'll be able to handle it." Her eyes were stern, and her mouth was drawn into a taut line. She wasn't going to be talked down to as if she were a child, especially from a punk that was on the verge of being expelled.

"Okay," He replied pensively, picking his words carefully. "What if I gave you the tools to be able to handle yourself, and in return you become my fake girlfriend."

April's anger subsided slightly at her ridiculous curiosity. "Explain."

She noticed that she had been saying that word to him a lot lately. And she wouldn't have to if only he would explain himself from the very beginning.

"I'll give you kickboxing lessons, free of charge, in exchange for your hand. Definitely not in marriage," Phil said jokingly, his eyes glittering once again in calculation.

It was then that her resilience slightly faltered.

"I don't need violence to take care of my problems." Her words didn't come out as strongly as she had hoped, and she knew Phil could feel her wall of resistance wavering a little.

"But if you can kick some ass, then they wouldn't bother you; you not doing anything isn't going to fix shit," He said with much more force than he intended.

April flinched and the guarded look in her face returned.

He had no right to speak to her that way, and she wasn't going to have any of it.

"April-"

"Stop pressing the issue and let me be." She picked up the pace in her steps and was grateful when he didn't go after her. It would have probably been worse for him if he tried to follow her, and she didn't want to lash out when she knew that she could reel in those emotions.

April ended up taking the shuttle and walking the distance between the university and the cafe, the time helping her control her breathing and soothe her chaotic thoughts. She drummed her fingers against her thighs, hoping that the pace would also distract her brain. She thought of oceans, sunsets, ice cream in the summer - anything to quelch her desire to punch something or some _one._ Eventually the tidal waves that were her thoughts became awash in a sea of calm once she was within a few feet of the cafe-bookstore. Placing a smile on her face, she bought an iced chai tea latte and snagged a seat next to the power outlet so she could charge her computer easier.

Once her laptop hummed awake, she plugged in her headphones and began her rapid typing and sifting through the documents she had to use for her essay, and her mind was focused on the task at hand.

Every now and then, her mind would brush against the memories of Phil's anger and it would make her fingers pause on the keyboard, trying to gather her bearings.

April wasn't even able to type up three pages successfully because of her fickle mind. Soon enough, her fingers stopped completely and brought her hand to lean her cheek against it.

Honestly, what was his problem? He had no reason to like her, or least of all defend her. She embarrassed him, swore at him, almost hit him in front of people and he was still trying to give her a lesson in predatory people. He had no reason to care.

She brushed a hand through her chestnut hair and took off her glasses, wanting to rub her eyes but knowing that it would make the pain worse if she did. She settled for only rubbing under her eyes and blinked. Okay, now that her internal rant was over, she could finally (hopefully) finish up this dreaded paper in peace.

That was all she wanted, and it was now becoming extremely difficult to obtain.

Shaking her curls loose, she set herself back on the task at hand, praying that she could now block out any sort of distraction that threatened to bother her.

Under her breath, she hummed the song that was flowing through her headphones and began to type again, page after page flying by and the page limit becoming something of the past.

Every now and then, she would glance out the window and notice the sun's slow descent into the horizon and she would respond with trill of approval - she was making good time and would definitely be done before the place closed.

When she sifted through the last of her documents, citing her sources and looking over her work once again, she was proud of what she was able to complete when she set her mind to it. Of course, she was always gifted in her studies and it only took a little elbow grease to get things done.

Making sure her work was completely saved, she unplugged her laptop and shut it down completely. She had packed everything and had thrown her garbage away when she looked out the windows and saw that dusk had completely fallen and now shrouded the trees, shops, and apartments in a blanket of darkness.

It didn't worry her too much since the bus stop for the shuttle was close by and the lamplights would illuminate her way.

April shut the door of the shop behind her and shrugged on her bags, making the trek towards her destination.

The pitter patter of her sneakers on the pavement made her more uneasy than it should have. Of course the quiet would disconcert her - there wasn't anyone else walking on the sidewalks when two or three individuals would be on the other side of her, or in front of her.

The rustling of the wind through the trees made the atmosphere slightly peaceful. Quiet.

Too quiet.

Her fingers curled around her book bag strap even tighter.

April could feel her heart beating in her ears when the shadows around her became menacing - maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her.

That is, until she heard the scuffing of shoes behind her.

She felt her heart drop to her knees.

April began to walk a bit more quickly, hoping it was just a misunderstanding and that she would be able to laugh about it on the ride back on the shuttle bus.

Much to her horror, the feet behind her slapped on the sidewalk at the same pace as she was walking. She tried to swallow the knot in her throat and fought the urge to look behind her and take a look at her pursuer. But now that she thought about it, she realized that there had been someone watching her from the minute she stepped into the building.

Through her internal pep talk at the cafe, April didn't notice the young man staring at her over the book he obviously wasn't reading.

She didn't notice the way his eyes seemed to travel up and down her, assessing her with both a clinical eye and a lewd one.

She didn't notice how he had left the cafe not even a few seconds after she had exited it.

April cursed herself internally for not being careful.

Although the shuttle stop was a few feet away from her, there wasn't anyone there and she wasn't sure she could trust the light washing over the seat and plexiglass encasing to stave off the person that was following her, now that her realization was making her paranoia increasingly worse. But it seemed a better option to her than walking aimlessly through dark alleyways.

She sat down on the bench, folding her hands over her lap. She knew that the shuttle had to be coming soon because she knew the schedule like the back of her hand. But that didn't stop her heart from beating erratically.

She looked at her watch and her eyes widened in dismay; the bus wouldn't arrive for the next twenty minutes.

April wasn't sure if twenty minutes was enough to keep her safe, but she closed her eyes and her eyebrows furrowed in an emotion she hadn't felt so long - panic.

She feared that this man was going to do something to her.

The seat next to her shifted under his weight.

 _Something more sinister, like the stories that everyone heard about the girls on campus that were careful, but not careful enough._

April's fingernails were digging into her skin.

She jumped when she felt an electric current passing through her shoulder.

When she looked up, she had never felt so relieved to see Phil Brooks in her life.

"Hey babe," He said with a glaring smile gracing his lips. He sat down next to her and curved his arms around her shoulders in an intimate embrace. No, a challenging one.

"I was wondering why it was taking you so long, I hope there wasn't anything in your way." He continued when she made no notion of saying anything out of fear that her voice would tremble.

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw the creep instantly stiffen - the jackass probably didn't expect him to show up and mess up his shitty little scheme. When Phil knew that the guy was looking at him, he looked at him full-on and gave him a deathly sneer that was so full of unbridled hatred and disgust that it would make Hades himself piss himself.

When the guy's eyes widened in alarm, the muscles in the arm that was closest to the asshole rippled with promise - no doubt would Phil punch the guy if he even made a move towards April.

"S-sorry, wrong bus stop," He stuttered out pathetically before he got up and scurried away, but not without Phil shooting up out of his seat and giving him a hard punch to the jaw and kick to the abdomen in quick succession.

The guy doubled over as he groaned in pain, not daring to glare up at Phil unless he _really_ wanted to get pummeled. He limped away, not even daring to look in the direction of April - the coward.

"Next time I fucking catch you following this girl or any other girl is the day you dig your goddamn grave!" He shouted after him, his voice making April's nerves completely undone.

When he was done ranting and raving, he turned back towards April as if he hadn't just beaten up some stranger and crossed his arms as he grinned from ear to ear.

"So how about those kickboxing lessons?"

...

 **I decided on a quicker update this week - I'm starting to get the hang of writing these chapters out, yeaaaahhhh!**

 **And as always, don't forget to comment/fave/follow :-))**


	5. Isabel Allende & Saulo Cavalari

For a girl that always held herself with regal composure, Phil never expected April to cry. Yet here she was, on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm just - give me a minute, please." The brunette did a sharp intake of breath and covered her hand over her mouth, struggling to keep herself calm.

Phil's eyes softened.

"Hey," he murmured. "He's not going to bother you again, alright? It's okay." It was a bit awkward since he wasn't used to consoling girls with sincerity, but he knew he couldn't just leave her to struggle on her own. It must've been one hell of a scare to be followed and know that something might've followed it afterward.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes shining with unshed tears. "Yeah, thank you."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she took another deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fingers from the bag strap. They ached with stiffness, but she thought that it was a small price to pay to avoid an unsavory situation. Her palms had little crescents from her fingernails, but she ignored it by brushing her hands on her jeans. Once her heartbeat was stable, she looked up at him and a small smile curved on her pink lips.

Phil shifted his weight on his other foot as he spoke. "I know this is a really bad time, but -"

"I already know where you're going with this," she cut him off, her normal demeanor returning quickly. "And contrary to what I've said before, I'm going to tell you 'yes' this time."

"Yes . . .?" Phil could hear the twinge of future regret in her voice, but he plowed forward. His eyes widened slightly at her different response, and he hoped she wouldn't have any second thoughts.

But first, he had to confirm her willingness.

"As much as I hate to do this . . . you're right. I'm not going to be able to stop people from bothering me if I can't defend myself. So I'll take on your offer of being your fake girlfriend, in exchange for the free kickboxing lessons." April sat up ramrod straight and folded her hands in her lap, looking at the smudged gum on the sidewalk as she slowly and fully answered him.

Phil waited for her to look up at him so he could see her eyes - her body language wasn't telling him if she would truthfully follow through on her word, so her eyes would be his next indicator.

He didn't like to think of himself as such, but he was a gifted manipulator and he relied on how people expressed themselves to him to use his charms on them. Reading a person was just as important as speaking to them.

When she looked up to see why he wasn't answering, Phil saw that there were still traces of fear in her eyes, and brutal honesty. But he didn't see the cold or calculation in there from when he saw that look in them for the first time. April wasn't thinking about bailing on him any time soon.

The shuttle pulled up to them and April quickly got up from her seat, anxious to leave macabre station and grateful that she wouldn't have to sit there for long. April took a seat at the front of the bus and Phil entered after her, sitting right next to her and extending his legs languidly. The driver gave him a measured look before shrugging his shoulders and pulling away, driving the bus back to the university.

When they had gotten comfortable in their seats, that was when Phil answered her.

"You're really stuck on them being free, aren't you?" Phil flashed his pearly whites at her and she rolled her eyes at him in response.

"I can't really afford them otherwise." April glanced up at the man and noticed that he looked completely at ease, his lip ring glinting under the fluorescents.

"A college kid having money to spend on kickboxing lessons? About as unrealistic as the pope doing a kickflip on a skateboard," he said with a half-grin, looking down at the smaller girl.

Now that he looked at her, her head went up to about three-quarters of his forearm - she wasn't lying when she said she was 5'2". How could a girl like her get into so much trouble when she looked like she couldn't even hurt a fly? It baffled him beyond belief.

He also noticed the way her hair seemed to bunch around her shoulders and fall to the small of her back in russet waves, too unreal to look natural, but knowing how April was almost careless in her appearance, totally plausible. It also complemented her darkened skin, giving it a glow under the bus lights.

Why was he bothering himself with this girl?

"Totally unrealistic," she mimicked his slang, glancing at him when she turned to look away from the window. Phil saw the way her lips quirked up slightly.

Phil wanted to continue the banter, but April was still a bit shaken up even though she looked was walking and talking normally and he didn't want to make her uneasy. They ended up sitting the rest of the ride in silence with April looking out the window, and Phil looking through the windshield.

It didn't take too long before the bus had arrived at their destination with April following Phil off of the vehicle.

"Have a good night," April murmured to the bus driver as he gave her the smallest of nods before shutting the doors and driving away.

They hadn't taken a few steps onto the campus when April broke the silence between them. "I want to start the lessons as soon as possible, say, tomorrow evening?" Her suddenness jolted him out of his reverie.

"Tomorrow? I'm not complaining, but why so soon?" He brushed his fingers through his hair as he waited for April's response.

"I just think that the more quickly I learn something, the better," she said. There wasn't a moment's hesitation in her words and she sounded so secure; so sure.

Phil knew from experience that even just learning the basics of kickboxing was hard as hell and needed the utmost attention and concentration so the hits wouldn't be sloppy. It had taken him months of training to hit his target on command, and the slap of skin to leather became numb. It wasn't easy, but he was sure that April wouldn't half-ass anything she set her mind to.

"Alright, fine. But now that you're my girlfriend, you're going to have to get used to seeing me a lot more," he retaliated, the smug look on his face challenging her to tell him the contrary.

"The thing is Phil, I already have." April's hazel eyes were absolutely taunting as she gave him a last look before she began to walk back to her dorms, leaving Phil to eat her dust.

'Game on', her eyes told him.

…

The rumors became even worse the next day, but April knew that she couldn't dispel them this time because they were now partly true.

April was now "dating" Phil, but it was only to satisfy the president. Yet he didn't know of the bargain she and Phil have that they weren't actually dating, but if he did, April was sure that the results wouldn't be pretty. It was just so confusing! And she was still trying to keep up with everything, and organize her thoughts so she would stop continuously tripping over them.

To stop her swirling mind, this was how April was going to think about the relationship:

She was dating Phil, but only in public and they had to fool everyone, except themselves.

Now Phil was walking with her and she was letting it happen, much to the anger of many of his exes. They ate lunch together, sat next to each other in their classes, and he even carried some of her things for her. But they never held hands.

It was one of the first things that April had established between them, and it was that they could absolutely under no circumstances hold hands.

"Why? What's the big deal," Phil asked her in between bites of his ham sandwich. He was one of the few people that chewed with their mouths closed, and April was super grateful for it.

"I just . . . have some issues with it, that's all."

Her tone told him that this was the only thing that was up for debate, even though he wanted nothing more than to press the issue. It was in his nature of course; to be bluntly curious.

But he had to hold back or else she'd run off and he'd lose his chance.

"Alright, but don't forget you have to help me study, too - the dating thing is only part of the deal," he replied instead of questioning her even more about her issues.

"I didn't forget; we just have to organize a time to sit down and do it." April brushed some stray curls behind her ear. Of course she hadn't forgotten; she may not be able to do a lot of things right, but studying was one of the few things she was utterly confident in.

It was around lunchtime that Phil gave her the information about the gym she was going to meet him up at and what time.

"The place closes pretty late, so expect to be out past bedtime," he teased, shoving a french fry into his mouth. He had already gotten pretty used to her (mostly) stoic presence, and joking with her was starting to become an easy hobby.

"Har de har, very funny, Brooks." April shot him one of her trademark sneer/glares and went back to picking at the pepperoni on her pizza. "I'll be fine-I can maneuver my way to the place from the instructions you gave me. I _can_ read, you know."

"I mean, if you couldn't, how do you get here in the first place?" he continued as April tried to eat the rest of her lunch through his quips.

After classes had ended, April didn't see Phil for the rest of the day. Even before she had agreed to become his fake girlfriend, he would say his goodbyes and head off to somewhere, but April never knew specifically _where_. Without fail, he would leave campus after classes and she wouldn't see him until the next afternoon when her classes started. Now she knew that he went off to take care of the gym that he and his brother managed in place of their deceased father.

"After my old man died, he left me and my brother his gym-it was his pride and joy," he replied to her query about why he owned a gym in the first place.

"I'm. . . sorry for your loss," April said stiffly, not knowing how to properly reply to someone that just said that their father passed away without batting an eyelash.

"He died a while back, so it's fine. Don't be so strung up about it." He gave her one of those teasing grins and she made sure she didn't visibly exhale in relief. That would be super rude.

Right now, the sky was on the verge of becoming dark, the reds, pinks, and oranges, warming April and making her feel secure, contrary to the fists she had shoved into her sweater pockets.

Usually she didn't care much for her state of dress, but she had made sure to wear shorts (they allowed more moving ability than sweats, she read online), a tank top and jogging sweater that she had shoved away in her closet when she did do exercise at one point in time, and sneakers that were the most obvious thing she needed in the first place. She had also managed to bring a small stringed-bag to carry a water bottle and a towel.

Overall, she looked ready on the outside, but she wasn't entirely sure about the inside.

April took her hands out of her pockets to shake them and diffuse her jitters. She couldn't back out now; she didn't know how many more ominous whistles she could take.

April didn't even take two steps forward onto the campus quads when nearly jumped out of her skin when someone grabbed her arm.

"What -" she began, nearly tearing off her bag to hit the stranger with when they began to speak.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out," Bryan Danielson let out quickly when he realized how strung-up April was, and how quickly that bag of hers could reach his face.

"God, Bryan! Don't scare me like that," she replied weakly, ripping her arm from his grip.

She didn't like it when people held her hand, even less when people touched her without her permission. Especially Bryan Danielson.

He held up his hands defensively and waited until she huffed out her anxieties before he continued.

"I've been trying to call you, you know," he said, his blue eyes stern.

"I've noticed," April replied a bit drily. As if the voicemails and text messages weren't indication enough. But she didn't have time to worry about Bryan's request when she had enough to worry about with Phil and the increasing harassment as it was.

"And it's not even just the messages. Believe you me, I've tried looking for you."

"Then what was stopping you? I'm not exactly a hard person to find," she spat out, gripping the strings on her bookbag even tighter.

Bryan shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and it clicked-he didn't dare approach her because she had been with Phil twenty-four seven as of late. Did Bryan actually think that she and Phil were dating? Or was he afraid of the other man?

To be honest, it was rare to find a person that wasn't terrified of the tall, menacing man. So really, Bryan wasn't an exception.

"I'm trying to be as patient and kind as I can, April, I really am. But we're running out of time and you're being difficult." April could hear the frustration leaking in his voice, try as he may to hold it back.

She didn't owe him anything, so she didn't know why he was insisting. But even though she knew from the top of her head to the tips of her toes that she didn't have any sort of obligation towards Bryan, her mind was telling her something entirely different.

"If you're that desperate for a partner, ask Eve - "

"Enough! You're going to be my partner and that's final," he seethed, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

April searched his eyes desperately. Angrily. Something just wasn't right. "It isn't just being partners, is it Bryan? What is it? There must be more to it," she whispered.

He shook his head, either to negate her accusations or to clear his head, April wasn't sure.

"Let's just say that if you don't say yes, you'll rue the day you said no to me." A cruel smirk appeared on his face that April was just itching to slap off.

He began to stalk away and left April on the cobblestones, flexing her aching fingers.

Bryan's little fit that he threw made April furious - how dare he try to intimidate her and threaten her again? He had no right! No claim over her whatsoever! Ugh, it was all just so frustrating.

April shakily took out her phone and saw that she would be late if she didn't break into a sprint right at that minute.

Twenty huffy minutes later, April arrived at the gym Phil's father previously - now Phil - owned. Instead of having big, plastic/glass letters hanging in front of the red and brown building that told the name of the building (much like its next-door and kitty corner neighbors), it had a wooden sign that had the words 'Cagoule & Minatory Gym' in bold letters, with the c and m standing out in particular. April didn't think the words were common, but she didn't really think twice about it as she pushed open the metal and glass doors.

When she entered, her feet hit wooden floors in a medium sized lobby. To the left of her sat an old, clunky, computer from the nineties and under it was metal desk with piles upon piles of papers. To the right of her were another pair of doors that led to a weight room. Phil had specifically told her to _not_ go there and to continue on ahead until she reached another pair of double doors.

As she walked ahead, quick glances to the single doors on either side of her lead to bathrooms, offices, smaller gym rooms with boxing rings, and supply closets. It felt a bit ominous, and it was worse with the flickering fluorescent lights above her.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before pushing open the double doors in front of her.

Her eyes were greeted with the sight of a huge boxing ring sitting right in the middle of the room. Faded beige ropes were strung from the turnbuckles that were beginning to peel and were already rusting underneath. She saw that all around her were punching bags hung from the high ceiling and other training equipment she didn't exactly know the names of. She did know that there were also punch mitts in addition to the other equipment and the punching bags.

After April took in the details of the room itself, her sight was drawn to Phil who was just a short distance to the left of her and was vivaciously punching away at one the smaller, rounder punching bags that would come back towards him immediately after he hit it. His hands were wrapped up in gray gloves and sweat beaded above his brow.

She didn't want to admit (and she never would admit) how Phil looked almost graceful as he jabbed the bag again and again. He seemed entirely at ease, and April was sure that she had never seen him like that at the university.

One more brisk hit and he turned to look at April, quickly jolting her out of her reverie.

"You ready?" he queried and April quickly nodded, setting down her things right next to the ring.

In no time, Phil had explained to her what each piece of equipment was (a wavemaster, focus mitts, double end bags, grappling dummies) and he gave her gloves and a helmet for her to wear, similarly to how he was protected. He made her do warm ups as to not "pull a muscle or something".

Twenty minutes later, April was in the ring, her hair tied up, her sweater and glasses discarded and she was wearing the gaudy black helmet and gloves, looking entirely out of place. Phil stood opposite of her wearing a pair of focus mitts and his own helmet. Somehow it looked right on him, and April began to feel even more out of place.

"Alright, now I want you to hit _this_ left glove," he waved his gloved hand. "with _your_ right hand." he crouched down slightly to meet her height and April couldn't help but feel a bit miffed. But she swallowed her pride and began to focus at the task at hand.

Her first hit was clumsy as she barely made Phil's glove move back from the lack of force. She narrowed her eyes and tried again, meeting the same results.

"Try shifting your feet apart, like this-okay, hold your head up a little. Pull your arm back and strike straight out. Now hit," He instructed mechanically as if he was teaching any other person.

April nodded and followed his instructions. This time, the gloves made a satisfying 'thwack' sound and it was a small improvement from her previous hits.

"It's getting better. Now switch hands and try again."

Hit.

"Again."

Hit.

"Again."

Hit.

"Again."

Hit.

"Again."

They continued like this for a while, and eventually Phil had her kick him in addition to the punches. April began to work up a sweat. How could something that Phil seemed to do with ease actually be super hard to do? She acknowledged that all sports required practice, and she wouldn't become an expert in it in one day. But still, it was really hard.

" _You'll rue the day you said no to me."_

For some reason, Bryan's words echoed throughout her mind and it didn't make her afraid like it used to; it made her furious.

The next hit she gave to Phil's hand was filled with adrenaline and anger, and it actually made him stumble back from the sheer force of it.

Phil looked up at her, his eyes widening with surprise.

April took no note of it and continued to hit and kick him, her anger at the other man completely fueling her strength.

Bryan had no right, no right to threaten her. To coerce her into doing something that he wanted, when she was able to get rid of him even though she thought she needed him. Why couldn't he get through his thick skull that she changed? That he forced her to change? And he still couldn't leave her alone? That evil leech, that slimy son of a -

"April?"

Her arm was still pulled back as Phil stood up and let out some huffs of exertion. Throughout April's internal rant, she had been letting out some massive hit that had him slightly stumbling back. He could tell that she was pissed from the hard line that her mouth made, to the crease that formed between her brow and her forehead.

"What?" she huffed out, wiping the sweat that was slipping around her face and shoulders. "I'm sorry, I-"

Phil shook his head and took off his gloves. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at her before looking up at her and shrugging the kinks out of his neck.

"Hit me," he said, his arms splayed wide.

She looked at him, confusion apparent on her face as she tried to slow her breathing.

"What are you talking about?"

Phil continued to stare at her, his eyes glinting with the suggestion of a dare. "Hit. Me."

She didn't dare pause a second time as she drew her fist back and threw it with as much force as she possibly had.

Much to her annoyance, her dodged it easily and countered with his own punch. With luck to rival a leprechaun, she was able to avoid it, but just barely. New beads of sweat immediately sprang up and she tried to give him a kick to the side. April could feel all of her anger spilling over into her hits, the rage of Bryan's words dulling the pain and fueling every counter, every punch -

was clumsy.

When April tried to give another kick, he had taken ahold of her leg and knocked her backwards, her wrath fading as her eyes widened in surprise. She wanted to throw herself back up, but was stopped when Phil pushed her back down, pinning her hands with his own against the mat and his body hovering above hers. Her chest was heaving with exertion, sweat traveling from her to the mat.

Her hazel eyes searched his vivid, emerald eyes, wondering what it was that he hid behind them; what it was that he was doing that she couldn't read.

Why it was that she could feel her neck and cheeks heat up to his touch.

"Your fury makes your moves sloppy - you have to put it under control or else one move could trip you up," he murmured, his voice not sounding out of breath in the slightest.

April wanted to be upset about how easy it was for him, but she could only think about his palms to her wrists.

 _What was the matter with her?_


	6. Cosmo Alexandre

"I appreciate the lesson, but could you please get off," April gritted out through her teeth, flexing the fingers that were raised above her head.

Phil blinked, now switching out from teacher mode to regular asshole mode and saw the position that he had put himself and April in. He quickly released her wrists and rose from where he was bent over her (Jesus Christ, he had gotten _really_ close) and coughed, trying to clear his throat.

"Yeah, I think we're done for today," Phil said as he took off his gloves, not wanting to meet her eyes. "It's late anyway."

"Okay," she replied simply, brushing her backside off and locating the rubber band for her hair that had slipped out during their brawl, along with her helmet.

Phil had trained women (and had dated women) that were kickboxers, and just did the sport for the workouts it provided, so he was accustomed to the way they dressed in the ring. He couldn't blame them - no one really wanted to beat ass in uncomfortable clothes. But still, he couldn't help it when his eyes were drawn to her skin that seemed to appear whenever she stretched - now hold the fuck up.

April was just some girl that he got to help him, no more, no less. He had to focus or else his mind would be wandering off somewhere that it didn't need to be wandering off to.

"So tomorrow we'll begin the studying sessions - I'm thinking philosophy to start off. Wouldn't want to fail Plato who was known to do sports, now do we?" April smiled to herself at her own joke. She shrugged on her sweater and took a swig out of her water bottle, not seemingly bothered by the event that just happened a few minutes ago.

Well if she could act nonchalant about it, then so could he.

"A nerdy ass guy doing sports? Yeah, I can see it," he scoffed, his eyebrows quirking up.

"He actually did, as hard as that may sound. Wrestling, in fact. See you later Phil," April called out to him as she slung on her book bag and walked out of the ring, leaving him staring after her.

He shook his head, dispelling the warring thoughts once more before putting everything away and closing up for the night.

April may be a beginner, but she definitely had the capability to kick some major ass if she trained more - and if she reigned in that temper of hers. He had no clue that April, the girl that looked all prim and proper and serious had anger that could flare up that much. She _did_ get pissed at him and had faced her wrath, but never to that level. Something must've pissed her off, since she seemed really weird when she showed up, and showed up _late_ of all things.

He didn't have the right to ask her, though. He didn't care. Phil was just curious on what made her tick.

He looked down at her used helmet and gloves for a split second before shoving them into the rental office and locked it up.

Once he double checked and made sure all the doors were closed, he locked up the building with his set of keys, content with fulfilling his side of the deal.

Now it was April's turn to do her side of the bargain.

…

The next day, Phil went back to bugging April as if what had happened yesterday never happened and it was (unsurprisingly) easy.

See, even though he tried to act like he hated everyone and the ground they walked on, he loved pissing people off even more so. So when he tried to convince April to be his fake girlfriend and help him study, he pushed aside his intense dislike for her in favor of annoying her just to savor making her mad, in addition to being persistent and consistent with his pursual of her, making it more likely for her to say yes.

It sounded like a bunch of bullshit, but it was actually science. Or there was a science behind it. That's besides the point.

The point was that he had to keep up with her, now more than ever if he wanted to get her help.

"I figured out a schedule that can benefit the two of us - I go to the kickboxing ring every other day, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, save for the weekend, and in return I am your faux girlfriend for the entire time. We have study sessions the days that are left over. How does that sound to you?" April was walking to the campus library, lugging her books in tow while Phil stalked beside her. She had just come out of her literature class and he from his math class.

"Wait, that means I get two days of studying to your three of boxing - how does that sound in the least fair? And why not on the weekends?" he ran his hands through his hair as his mouth shifted into a crooked line.

"Did you forget I'm your girlfriend twenty-four seven? I think that more than makes up for the discrepancy," she rolled her eyes, but stopped mid-roll when she realized her words came out louder than she intended which earned her a few looks from some of the people around her.

Was it just him, or did the people began to whisper furiously when their backs were turned to them?

He chose to ignore them, shrugging and placing his hand on the small of April's back and kind of pushing her towards the library. He dropped his hand when she flinched at his touch; what the hell?

"I just don't like it when people touch me unexpectedly. And we're not doing the weekends because I think we'll be sick of each other by the time Friday rolls around," April said under her breath as if reading his thoughts.

"Alright, fine. Why are we going to the library anyway?" Phil opened the door for her to enter (he was a gentleman when he wanted to be) and she led him to the back where the desk lights were lit low and the talking was kept to a slight murmur.

"Today's Thursday, obviously." she sat down at one of the tables and gestured for him to sit across from her. He down in the chair slowly and looked at her outstretched hand with slight confusion.

"Thursday - you mean we're starting today?" he raised his voice to the point that April had to shush him, her eyes shooting him daggers.

"Yes, you wanted to do this as soon as possible, right?"

"But not this early!"

"Keep your voice down, you idiot!" she whisper/yelled and slapped a hand to his mouth. "And I told you tomorrow didn't I? I don't ever go back on my word."

Phil looked down at her tanned hand, and wanted to push her hand away, but waited, trying to calm himself down. When he was sure that he was calm enough to speak in a library-approved voice, he motioned for her to put her hand down and April did so as quickly as she had put it there.

"I don't even have my philosophy book," he argued weakly.

She gave him a curt smile. "I was able to borrow one from the teacher for today; consider yourself lucky, Brooks."

His eyes flashed with hatred.

But he blinked to get rid of it; she had agreed to help him out, right? She didn't have to. So for now, he would put the insufferable ass act at bay for now.

Phil sighed. "Fine. Pass me the book."

Fifteen minutes of studying turned into half an hour, and then eventually into two hours of studying the recent section he had slacked off on. Phil himself knew that he wasn't stupid - how else could he have stayed at Pons University for so long? He could understand the material if he concentrated and attempted to study it, but he was simply lazy. Luckily, April wasn't a bad teacher who knew how to push him and he caught on to most of the material. The downside was that he had a pounding headache by the end of her ramblings.

"So this guy - Aquinas - thought wisdom to be something that you had to be innately born with because God had to have gifted him with it? Although many people have other theories about the interpretation of wisdom, his was popular along with others." Phil rubbed his temples as he reiterated the information from the chapter they had just done a crash course on.

How could there be a whole chapter dedicated to wisdom? Old guys really did have their panties twisted in a bunch about all of this, didn't they?

"Yes! Make sure you write this down in your notes because I have a feeling it may be on one of the tests," April beamed, a stark contrast to Phil's slumped shoulders and baggy eyes.

"I will, Miss April," he replied tiredly as he scratched the words onto his notebook.

She ignored his quip and flipped through the textbook, seeing what other material they had to cover, Phil presumed. He sighed gratefully when she shut the book and stacked it on top of the other books that she had, indicating that they were done for now.

"You're a lot smarter than I thought," April muttered to herself, gathering her things into her bag.

"Well, it's easier to let people think I'm tough and dumb - let's them think they stand a chance against me, and when I cut 'em down it's much sweeter." he gave her an absolutely vicious smile, making the tips of April's ears blush in embarrassment.

"Eventually they might stand a chance," she replied, huffing out her breath as she balanced her books in her arms. "See you later, I guess."

Just like yesterday, she left him alone with his thoughts . . . but he didn't let them run amuck this time. He decided on leaving the too-quiet library and maneuvered his way out of the chair and out the doors.

The rest of the week continued exactly like April had scheduled and how he had hoped it wouldn't: repeatedly.

Boringly.

They spent their days practicing kickboxing (with Phil keeping a respectable distance after "the incident") and helping Phil study for his classes; some of the classes that April didn't even _have,_ but she caught on and understood the material better than he ever could. Sometimes he forgot he was dealing with a super genius and not just some prissy chick.

Anyway, he taught her and she taught him - he felt confident at being better than her at something, so he didn't hold back after the first day when he realized that she had potential that she was hiding, and he wanted to unleash her. Plus he wanted to try and beat the hell outta her after she beat the hell outta his brain with all that studying.

Two weeks didn't even pass by and Phil was already bored out of his mind with all the monotony. Hours were blurring into days, and he could feel himself blink once from sunrise to sunset. It was boring boring boooooring, and he needed to liven up a little somehow before he lost his goddamn mind.

The day he decided to break out of the cycle was a Friday, one of April's kickboxing days. He didn't think she would miss it, since she had been doing particularly well on the drills that he was making her run, and he commended her for it. One day out of the three wouldn't be a big deal, and he was impatient to wait for Saturday; he had to go out now, dammnit!

After he told April goodbye like he usually did, he made sure she didn't suspect anything out of the ordinary. Phil knew that he couldn't tell her that he was skipping out on her or else she would throw a fit and he just couldn't deal with that right now. So he opted for keeping quiet, which was obviously the best for the two of them. Obviously.

He could tell her later if she freaked out about it too much, but he didn't think she would. She'd probably go back to her dorm if she didn't see him there.

It all seemed fine to him.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Phil made his way to one of the bars that was close by the gym, and he had loved going to with his dad when he was still alive. He didn't drink in there then, at least, not when his father was watching. He mostly enjoyed going there with his old man to see the other guys play billiards expertly with the flick of their wrists, and their drunken laughter resonating and sloshing like the liquid in the bottles clasped in their hands. Poetic, right?

Now that he could drink whenever the hell he wanted however the hell he wanted (really, there were a lot - and really, a lot - of ways to drink a shot). At one point he had sworn off of any and all liquor, taking on a straight-edge lifestyle before he compromised with himself when he turned twenty-one that a drink once in a while wouldn't be too shitty. He did continue to not do drugs under any circumstances - now that stuff could really fuck a person up. Oh yeah, and screamo music. He didn't need that kind of torture in his life at all.

He walked into the bar, the familiar old school rock music blaring from the jukebox wrapping him up like a familiar blanket in the dead of winter.

"Long time no see, Brooks. Thought you'd abandoned us," Mark called out to him from behind the bar table as he gave a dirty blond a corona.

Mark Callaway had been bartending "Undertaker's Gig" ever since Phil could walk, which was a pretty long time. On the outside he seemed like this big, serious guy, but once someone got to know him, he was actually really chill and could even be funny. He had known Phil's father and they had been friends for years, which is why Mark let the fact slide that a fourteen year-old Phil could wander in the bar; with adult supervision of course.

Mark had even showed up at his dad's funeral and expressed his condolences, which Phil and the rest of his family deeply appreciated.

Without a doubt, Mark Callaway could be considered one of Phil's closest friends and a part of his family.

"Me? Abandon you guys? That's the day I sprout wings, Mark. It's just that I've been busy, that's all," he replied in a genuinely, but contrasting it by giving Mark that trademark crooked smile of his.

Mark laughed, a big booming laugh that seemed to rattle the bar stools. "Then I wait for the day you grow wings so you can finally stop drinking all of my brandy." Mark shot him one of his rare full-on smiles. "So what've you been up to, kid?"

"Ah, just studying and training. Day in and day out." Mark passed Phil a glass of brandy and he took a small sip of it, trying to get his body accustomed to the strong liquor once again.

"Training and studying? When the hell did you hit the ground running?"

"Well," Phil hesitated slightly, but he knew better than to hold anything from Mark. "This girl really strung me up, man. Got me to do all the shit I was too lazy to do."

Without hesitation, Mark responded. "I like her already." His eyes twinkled mischievously.

"She's a pain in the ass, don't get me wrong. But she got me working, so I can't really complain." This time he took a swig from the drink, relishing the way it burned down his throat. God, that really hit the spot. He could feel himself unwinding already.

"Well, I'm glad you're releasing your full potential," Mark said finally before moving to attend another customer that had plopped himself onto the barstool, calling for a beer.

Phil glanced around and noticed that a pretty little redhead was twirling a lock of hair between her fingers, batting her eyelashes and smirking at him.

He did notice that since he was doing better, there was a different kind of confidence that was radiating off of him that made him more attractive than he already was, so he took his opportunities to flirt in full stride.

"Yeah, me too," Phil replied while eyeing the redhead as Mark rolled his eyes at him.

After a period of eye contact, Phil finished his brandy and had developed the most miniscule buzz, another brandy was slipped into his hands was another, and a glass of red wine that he was planning to give to the woman. He wasn't sure if she would accept it or not, but seeing as she had looked at him when Mark passed him the drink, she wouldn't think he was trying to drug her or anything. Plus, he wouldn't do that - he wasn't a disgustingly shitty asshole that would drug a girl just because she wouldn't want to sleep with him otherwise, but nevertheless, he wouldn't blame her for being careful.

But enough rambling; time to turn flirty wordy mcmoutherton on and ease his way into her pants.

He sat down at her table and stared at her for a few seconds more before opening his mouth. "I'm sorry - I'm looking for this stunning goddess. But it seems like I found someone much more beautiful." He flashed her his crooked smile that always had girls falling to their knees.

Being gifted with eyes that could rival the green of grass in the spring and a close likeness to Hugh Jackman, Phil knew he had to take full advantage of his face (and body) to get what he wanted. And he always got what he wanted.

The redhead was melting in the palm of his hand as she fluttered her eyelashes again and a warm blush spread across her cheeks.

"Quite the charmer I see," she said with a heavy Irish accent. He found it to be incredibly sexy.

"Charmer is my middle name. Phil Charmer Brooks - it has a nice ring to it," he joked and she laughed. "And your name, gorgeous?"

"Rebecca." She tilted her head and her hair spilled over her shoulders like a river of red. Phil took another swig of brandy.

"Well Rebecca, I hope you accept this glass of wine to match your red hair." Wow, he was just so full of _shit._

She gave him one of her own charming smirks and took a drink from the wine, confident from what she saw at the bar that he didn't slip anything in at all whatsoever. "Thank you Mister Phil Charmer Brooks."

They continued their flirting and the time that Phil had to meet April eventually became a thing of the past. He had eventually downed eight drinks of E & J brandy and had never felt this good. Rebecca was laughing as loud as he was, but luckily the music was able to drown out their laughter. Usually, Phil could hold his liquor when he wanted to, but right now he wanted to get drunk and loosen himself up after the weeks of practice, study, practice, study.

He actually wasn't sure if he'd be able to have sex with her if he couldn't even stand on his own feet. He had thrown out the idea of fucking and just basked in the glow that being drunk gave him.

All he could hear was Journey playing in the background, and all he could see were those red locks of Rebecca. What more could he want?


	7. Gabriel Garcia Marquez

**There's going to be some notes at the end of the chapter :**

 **...**

If she ever got her hands on Phil, April swore to God that she would strangle the worthless life out of him.

When the time for her kickboxing practice began to roll around, April donned her usual apparel and made the trek to the gym, a slight kick in her step. Phil had told her before that she was doing well, and he never gave out compliments easily, so she was beaming from head to toe. He had told her that they were going to practice a kick that would put her weight on one foot while she sprang the kick with the other, and she was totally excited to learn some more kickbutt moves.

It was supposed to be a great Friday night, right?

Wrong! Totally, effing wrong!

April had showed up at the gym and when she tried to open the doors, they were locked. She thought it was a bit weird at first, so she went around, thinking that maybe Phil accidentally closed the front door. If that was the case, then Phil "accidentally" locked all of the doors and it left April baffled.

She tried knocking on the doors, windows, anything - hoping that Phil was inside and he was playing a prank on her, but he was really not in there at all. April even dialed his phone to ask him what the hell was going on, but his phone was off.

That freaking bastard!

Forty-five minutes of circling, knocking, and screaming later, April eventually let out a cry of frustration into the night, scaring off a few of the crows that were sitting on the telephone wires.

She rubbed her arms, the nighttime and the neighborhood giving off an ominous glow that urged her to stay under the streetlights.

Well, now she had no choice but to go back to her dorm and hope that nothing would happen to her on the way back. Oh, she was going to rip Phil a new one if she ever saw him again -

Her hazel eyes flicked to a bar that was down the street from where she was standing, her ears picking up the sound of what seemed to be The Immigrant Song drifting out of the doors.

April looked around to make sure no one was following her and crossed the street so she was standing in front of the bar. She stretched her head back to read a new, sparkly and glowing sign that read "Undertaker's Gig" in glossy black letters.

She shut her eyes, breathing in the cigarette smoke and malt liquor smell that wafted around her. April breathed it out in a sigh and for some unexplainable reason, she knew that Phil would be in that bar. She couldn't tell you how she knew, but the smell was a clue that indicated that this is where Phil would be when he had free time.

Normally, she wouldn't care what he did when they weren't together, but he broke a promise to her and now she had to give him an earful, one way or another.

Funnily enough, Blondie's "One Way or Another" began to warble out of the jukebox when April stepped foot into the bar, the floorboards creaking under her footsteps. But her feet wouldn't be on that floor for long.

She didn't even have to scan the bar for too long to see Phil Brooks leaning forward on a table, his hand lazily holding a glass with golden liquid. It was probably some sort of strong liquor, seeing as he was already drunk out of his mind and the last time she saw him was three and a half hours ago.

He was laughing too hard and talking too loud which made him look ridiculous, but that didn't mean he was going to garner any sympathy from her! Even if he was drunk, she would chew him out.

She had enough decency to not yell at him in public - not out of concern for whatever street cred he had in this bar, but because she still valued her appearance in public. Even if she was dating Phil Brooks. Ugh, she knew that he was going to get some sort of punishment; doubling up on the studying so he would see piles and piles of papers in his nightmares. Oh, and making sure he devoted twice as much time to her kickboxing lessons - an hour extra for every minute he had been in this damn bar.

Okay, maybe that was a bit overboard, but she knew she wasn't done with him in the least.

But first, she had to get his drunk ass home.

April made her way to his table, and her eyes flickered over to the first time to the girl with the cascade of red hair that was sitting across from him. The brief idea of jealousy passed through her mind before she reminded herself why she was in the bar in the first place.

"You idiot," she murmured, trying to throw his arm around her shoulders. April heard that it would make carrying drunk people a lot easier, but she never thought that she would use it any time soon.

"A . . .April? Hah! How the hell are you doing here?" he slurred out, struggling to his feet.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, and let's just get you home." April noticed that the redhead had her eyes narrowed at her, her mouth pressed into a line.

"Are you his girlfriend? He never mentioned he had one." the redhead sounded a little bit more than buzzed with a slight slur to her words, but she sounded coherent nonetheless.

April blinked. "I'm sorry, no but - "

"April? She is my girlfriend and is smoking hot, amirite?" Phil emitted a harsh laugh that made April flinch in response.

"Makes sense. A guy like that wouldn't be single," she sighed, leaning her cheek into her palm.

April paused before digging in her pockets and taking out thirty dollars and setting it on the table. The redhead looked up at her with a slight confusion in her eyes.

"Take a cab home. Stay safe," she told her when the redhead didn't speak up to ask her about the money.

She didn't want a girl to end up like she almost did.

"Are you the girl?"

April turned to see the source of the voice and saw that it was a tall man, so tall she had to stretch her head back to look up at him, with pitch black hair and a glint in his eyes. He was rubbing the outside of a glass cup with a rag.

"I'm sorry?"

The man gestured towards Phil with his chin. "The girl that's been pushing him."

April blinked. "I . . . guess so," she said, her eyes flitting towards Phil's drooping figure.

The man smiled. "Take good care of him."

I wonder what he means to Phil, she mused. April didn't try to stare for too long before she gave him a slight smile before throwing Phil's arm around her shoulders once more before half-walking half dragging him out of the bar and under the streetlights.

Throwing her head back up to the sky, April closed her eyes and tried to mentally prepare herself for the struggle that was going to be dragging Phil home. If she didn't find a cab soon, her arms and legs would turn into jelly because he was so darn heavy.

She sighed and began the slow trek, her eyes scanning the cars passing by her on the street in hopes that a taxi or a shuttle would crawl by her.

"A - pril," Phil sing-songed, leaning his head onto her shoulder.

"No no no, keep your head up. You're heavy as it is," she gritted out, trying to concentrate on her feet to put one foot in front of the other.

"Sorry. Ya didn't hafta pick me'up y'know."

"If I didn't, who would have?" April struggled to understand him through his drunken stupor.

"True," he sighed, closing his eyes momentarily.

And besides, if Phil had died in some sort of ditch, who was going to give her free kickboxing lessons?

Luckily, that was the time that a cab was about to zip by her if she hadn't of thrown her hand out for them to see. She whispered a silent thank you prayer and opened the door on one side and shoved Phil's legs, arms, and torso like some sort of two-hundred pound ragdoll and shut the door. She shoved him (as gently as she could) to the other side of the vehicle before she swiftly sat inside of the cab, closing the door behind her in one swift movement.

Phil's head lolled to the window of the cab, meanwhile April's mind was chugging with what to do with him.

She couldn't necessarily go and dump him in his dorm; people would ask questions that she wasn't sure she'd have the answers to, and she wasn't even allowed in there anyway after dark. The only other option she had was to take him with her and sneak him out when there wasn't anyone watching. Celeste had decided to visit her aunt for the weekend, so she didn't have to worry about any probing demands and answers.

April emitted a sigh and directed the cab driver around the university, having him stop on the street that wound around her dorm. She gave the cabbie forty dollars and looked away as more money was being sucked right out of her. Ugh, Phil would definitely have to pay her back for this.

Once the cab had driven away and she had Phil shrugged on her shoulders, she tried not think about lugging his body around and else she would have to quit right then and there.

Gritting her teeth, April began to take one step at a time, counting the steps to make the process a bit easier to deal with. What became an obstacle was climbing the stairs.

"Why didn't they ever install an elevator? This is getting ridiculous!" April whisper-yelled. Perspiration was traveling down her neck and she tried to ignore the aching in her arms and shoulders as she took one step at a time, praying that this hell would be over soon.

"An elevator? What 'bout a escalator," Phil slurred, his fingers twitching around her arms.

April looked at him in disbelief; he still had enough consciousness to continue to speak, but not to move? What kind of drunk was he?!

"It's not going to make much of a difference, Philip." April felt a little smug at calling him by his full name without getting any sort of repercussions from him.

Actually, he had made it clear from day one that she wasn't ever under any circumstances to call him Philip. He had been bugging her per usual, but she was just utterly exhausted from staying up past her usual sleeping time to study for her english exam, so his full name tumbled out of her mouth with a slight twinge of revulsion. He had paused from walking beside her and had very quietly, albeit very menacingly asked her to never call him that again, but he never explained why. He just shrugged off her continuous questions with a glare and a tightlipped look. He didn't intend on giving her any reasoning, and April didn't push it anymore.

Why? Well, for one she was ridiculously tired, and for another thing, she had never seen him so angry. Only when that guy had harassed her, but his fury was never directed towards her.

But right now, he was well-deserved of her fury and she didn't care about his anger (if he had any in this state) because hers was so much greater.

"Don't," he whispered, his eyebrows furrowed in pain and his tone was so vulnerable that it made April pause.

She swallowed the knot in her throat. His voice gave her the image of droplets of rain on a cold winter's day - it didn't belong there, and even if it knew that it would disappear beneath the blankets of snow, it made a futile attempt to be there. Phil's voice didn't belong to him, but his features and his posture dictated to make it otherwise.

"Sorry," she murmured, adjusting him on her shoulders once more before continuing her trek.

"You never told me why you don't like people calling you by your full name," she said, wanting to hit herself for even trying to communicate with this moving corpse. But she was curious - how could being called by your name make you so vulnerable?

"My mom - she only ev'r calls me by m'full name when she diss-appointed in me," he sighed, leaning against her. April tried to bite down a groan at his increased weight and tried to listen to him.

"She doesn't do that often, I assume?"

Phil shook his head. "Only twice. When I kickbox'd behind her back, and when I got expelled from my old high school." he inhaled deeply before shutting up again.

April didn't press him.

She wanted to scream once she reached the final step, but she had to remind herself that people were probably sleeping and she would be in so much trouble if someone saw her dragging a huge, muttering body.

Fishing the keys out of her pocket, she stuck her key in the lock in the door, opened it up as wide as it could go, shuffled inside, and closed it as quietly as she could.

Since April still had some politeness left in her, she decided to shove Phil onto her bed instead of Celeste's. As much as it killed her to have his grimy, dirty clothes on her crisp sheets, she swallowed her qualms and put him on his side (and slid a trashcan his way for good measure). She may have still not really liked him, but that didn't mean that she wanted him to die in her dorm. April wasn't sure about the consequences that would more than likely come if he did die, and she wasn't too keen on finding out.

Just as she had adjusted him on her bed and was about to make her way over to Celeste's bed, she could feel Phil's grasp on her wrist. She turned around, slight shock cast over her features. Was he sober? That should be impossible. But why did he have such a strong grip on her?

Phil still had his eyes closed; sleeping like a baby. But he still had the tight hold on her wrist that it was really disconcerting. When she tried to pull out of it, he actually pulled her closer.

He tucked his arms behind her back and across her waist, pulling her towards him and making the hairs on her arms stand ramrod straight.

What is he doing what is he doing what is he doing what is he do-

"'lways smellin' like wildflowers," Phil murmured. He pressed his nose against his hair and April could feel warmth in her ears. Wait, was that a blush?

Jeez, she really needed to pull herself together! Just because it felt really nice to have his hands splayed on her sides and back, and just because having his breath curling through her hair didn't mean that she could slip into some sort of happy coma and forget about the fact that this guy was cruel. He was cruel towards girls, and he was most especially cruel to Celeste.

But had he ever been so open with anyone like he had been open with April on the stairs? No matter how hard she tried to shake the image off, she could still see his emerald eyes flashing with pain when he told her about his mother. It was obvious he was a total mama's boy, but anyone who treated their mother like a porcelain doll couldn't be as hateful as the world thought he was. But if that was the case, why was he such a terrible towards the girls at Pons? If someone loved their mother like that, wouldn't that reflect in how he treated girls? It didn't make sense.

April saw his normally tense and creased features were creased out, and he actually looked handsome - hold on a second.

Her stomach may have had millions of butterflies fluttering inside of it and causing her to think things that hadn't appeared before, but that didn't let her forget that the relationship was fake. Whatever that was going through her was just some sort of side effect of being within his presence for so long, and she had to reel herself back in. This was only for kickboxing lessons - no more, no less. It wouldn't be right or honest to her, or Celeste.

It just didn't feel right.

April had guilt churning through her stomach and she tried to pull out of his grasp, but he seemed to pull her closer, making escape virtually impossible.

She sighed, deciding that staying there until he was in a deep sleep wouldn't hurt her or anyone else as long as she broke out of it herself. She just wouldn't fall asleep, that's all.

But his warmth - it made it extremely difficult.

She noticed that underneath the smell of whiskey that clung to his clothes and skin, she breathed in the scent of apples. April thought that someone as gruff and douchey as he would smell like, well, like motor oil from an old Chevrolet, or like pine trees from a wilderness that would give off the aura that he's survived in a forest before. Something masculine to reflect the image that he never failed to present. But here he was, smelling like sweet, green apples from an orchard.

It reminded her of when she was a child, and her mom would take her sister and her to the farmer's market when summer and autumn rolled around. She loved the aroma of spices, of meat roasting, and of the fresh apples that the vendors would display for their customers. Her mom would always buy her a green apple, knowing that they were her favorite.

April's eyes began to flutter and soon enough she was knocked out, her body intertwined with his.

It probably would've looked romantic, had it not been one person drunk and the other battling inner demons.

How poetic.

...

 **I apologize for updating so late! Getting ready with college stuff and stressing a little bit has kept me from sitting down and writing, so I apologize. Another chapter is going to be uploaded later today, but there may not be any updates for a bit (depending on how I adjust). See you guys later!**


	8. Fabiano Cyclone Aoki

God, what a fucking killer headache.

Phil knew that he shouldn't move up too fast or else he'd upchuck the baked potato he had yesterday for dinner.

He squinted his eyes as he tried not to let the sun in, but he had to open them somehow to figure out where the hell he was. As he struggled to situate himself on this plane of existence, he tried to recall yesterday's events.

Okay, so he went out to grab a few drinks . . . there was that smoking hot redhead there. Jesus, did he even get her number? She was so choice, it would've sucked if he missed out on it. But if he had only grabbed a few drinks, why couldn't he even remember how he had gotten into the bedroom that he was in now?

He flexed his fingers and felt the cotton of the duvet that he knew wasn't his own. Phil didn't even want to turn his head because he knew a lightning bolt of annoying pain would follow.

So why did he go out for drinks again? Oh yeah, to break away from April -

Fuck, she was going to give him a ton of flack for it; he'd never stop hearing it for days and he probably risked his place at the school if she backed out on their deal. Damn him and his unquenchable thirst for breaking the status quo.

Once Phil was sure that his head wouldn't go all tornado on him, he began to shift up and saw a body, a feminine body curled up against his chest. Her hair was spread across her sleeping face, but Phil knew who it was. That smell - he couldn't forget it.

April.

Did he . . . ? He wasn't sure if he did anything to her, and he'd hate himself if he did. But they still had their clothes on, so he breathed a heavy, heavy sigh of relief.

Until that is, he realized that he was in her room with his arms around her.

Phil immediately pulled his arms back like her body scorched him. Why was he in her room? Did she drag him there? How did she do that?! She obviously weighed tons less than him so it must've been one hell of a night.

Looking down at her, he saw the way her tendrils seemed to cover her like a sheer blanket and her lashes were curved against her cheeks. He never realized how long they were. Or how her lips looked super soft and pink and pursed - even more so when she was asleep.

Tentatively, he reached his hand out to move a few strands of hair, but her eyes cracked open, making him retreat.

April immediately looked up at Phil, and then at her arms curved around his waist, and his arms curved around hers. Her eyes widened and she pushed herself out of his grasp and tumbled onto the floor with a loud thud.

"Are you okay?" he tried to keep the genuine concern out of his voice.

"Y-yeah. Totally fine. Absolutely wonderful. The best I've felt in years, I've gotta say," she began to ramble, scrambling from her compromising position on the floor and standing up straight. She brushed off her clothes and hair before looking back at him, her composure back into place.

Phil's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he brushed it off, concentrating on moving up and out of the bed - April's bed.

Goddamnit.

He had successfully gotten himself to sit up without barfing, and warded off April who had made a gesture to help him. He wasn't some wimp - he could get up without her help, but he couldn't really say that outloud. He had barely taken a step towards the door when he was immediately stopped by April's fluttering hands pushing him back.

"Hold-hold on! Do you not realize where you're at?" April whisper/yelled as she pulled him back.

In other circumstances, he wouldn't have been able to be pulled that easily, but he was still a bit woozy and oh my God, yesterday's bake potato was shooting out of his throat.

April made a face before shoving him her wastebasket so he wouldn't hurl on the carpet.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"Sorry my ass - I know I'm in your room; what of it?" He spat the last of his dinner in the garbage before wrinkling his nose in disgust and setting it down.

"Well, you're not supposed be in here first of all - it's not allowed you idiot! If you get caught we're both done for," she hissed, moving to stand in front of the door.

Phil rolled his eyes and ran his hands through his (sweaty) hair. Fine, she was right - he couldn't speed off because even though Pons was pretty lenient on some things, it was super strict on others. For example, cheating, lying, and a person of one gender sleeping in the same room of another gender. It was the golden three, with the last one being super prohibited. That's why whenever he hooked up with someone, it was always off campus.

Hey, he may be a total jerk, but that didn't mean he wouldn't follow the rules if they would screw him over.

"So what do you suggest we do?" he sighed, his eyes meeting hers.

Phil hated playing by someone else's rules more than anything, but at this point, he had no choice. April knew this dorm more than he did, and he couldn't risk getting in trouble with McMahon again.

Her eyes met his for a fleeting second before staring out her window. "It's still pretty early in the morning, so I'm sure everyone is still asleep. We just have to sneak you out of the building and then we'll be fine! Totally fine." April rubbed her hands nervously on her rumpled clothes - her training gear - before reaching over to grab his arm and pull him with her out the door.

Phil's eyes widened in surprise; this was the first time that she willingly, without being prompted, reached out to him.

His surprise was short lived when she launched him out the door and his senses were hit with his current state of dress. Jesus, he had this funk on him that made him want to take a shower right this instant. His hair was oily, his breath was disgusting, and his clothes were dirty. Now more than ever he wanted to get out. Out out out out out!

With April leading, they began the trek of going down several flights of stairs. And more than once, he wanted to give up since his legs were still unsteady.

"Did you drag me up these stairs?" he whispered incredulously. She was so tiny - how the hell did she pull that off?

"Well no one else was gonna do it," she replied and he could hear the smugness in her tone. But that was mostly hidden by her anger at having to lug him everywhere.

"Sorry," he muttered, low so she couldn't hear it.

Every sound that would float by them would set the two on edge; the creak of a door opening made April stop until she wouldn't hear it for a good ten seconds. Phil would pull her back if they heard whispers of voices close by, and wouldn't move until they faded away. They had almost gotten caught on multiple occasions - once when two people had passed them by, sullenly talking about an exam they had on Monday (Phil and April were able to hide behind a counter), and twice when an RA stopped to chat with April, so she had to shove Phil aside behind a wall.

Slowly but surely, they had made their way out of the building and they heaved huge sighs of relief.

"I can't remember the last time I've ever been so on edge. Probably when I was with this chick and her dad almost came in on us." Phil was back to his taunting, snakey self when he realized they were out of danger.

"Pig," she hissed, rolling her eyes.

Phil looked at her and saw that she was still obviously pissed at him getting pissed in a bar instead of going to train with her. He didn't blame her though; if she didn't show up to one of their study sessions and went off to go on a date or something.

But for someone that usually gave long, winded talks about responsibility, April was awfully quiet. She wasn't chewing him out, even though he was sure that she would have the moment he woke up. It was a bit unnerving.

"Alright, I'm ready for the verbal asskicking of the decade - go for it, A." Phil crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and braced himself for the onslaught that he was sure was bubbling inside of the girl in front of him.

He was met with silence.

Cracking an eye open, Phil saw April looking out towards the gates that separated the university from the rest of the social world. She heaved a breath and looked back at him, a small smile gracing her face.

"I'll see you on Monday, Phil."

He blinked.

What?

She started to walk away while he was still frozen on the spot. He shook his head to break himself out of his state and began to go after her. He wanted to reach out and grab her, but he pulled back when his hand was just about to touch hers - he just remembered her rule: he wasn't supposed to touch her, much less her hands.

"Wait, hold on April - aren't you gonna yell at me? Tell me how irresponsible I am? Make me sacrifice one of my studying days to make up to you for skipping out, or do it today . . . something like that," his words began to die in his throat when he realized that April's eyes were stagnant through the options that he had offered her.

She really wasn't going to do anything, wasn't she?

"There's a reason I asked the weekends off, and it's not worth trying to make it up right now - doesn't matter. We'll just pick things back up on Monday." she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear before heading back to her dorm, leaving him staring after her.

Was this some kind of joke that she was keeping him out of the loop? Because last time he checked, April fools wouldn't be for a good while, and it would only make sense for her to pull pranks on a day with her name in it.

He took one last look at the building, fully realizing that she wasn't coming back out saying something like "Punk'd! Ha! Got your ass! Now devote this whole day to me, slave!". Phil shook his head and made his way back to his apartment building, garnering some looks from the few students on campus that had early classes. He returned the looks with a glare of venom and continued on his way out the gates.

He shuffled to the apartment that was off campus, thankful that he had chosen a place that was within walking distance. Phil took his keys out of his pocket and shoved it inside the door of the building, and then inside the door of his room. Once he was inside, he leaned against the door, trying to fully gather his bearings from last night and this morning.

But first, Phil would have to get in the shower because he still smelled like he took a lovely swim inside of a dumpster. Honestly, how did April drag him for so long without throwing up and throwing him out?

He peeled off his clothes and jumped underneath the steaming water, grateful for the heat relaxing his tense muscles and muting his pounding head.

Okay, now that April wasn't gonna yell at him for bailing, he gave himself his own punishment by feeling super shitty. Really, she was being too nice by not giving him flack, and it made him feel even worse.

She didn't have any responsibility by dragging him out of that bar and into her room, knowing that she would get in trouble if she got caught. April was the straight A student that never got in trouble, and would probably be depressed if she got kicked out of the university he felt that she worked hard to get into.

Honestly, he didn't get it - why did she help him?

And why did he puke in front of her? God, that was disgusting.

He wrinkled his nose at recalling the sounds and the smells. And he knew how ridiculous of a drunk he was from stories that his buddies would tell him when he came to. And she had to deal with him like that . . . goddamn, he was an utter mess.

Phil wondered what he had told her in his messed up state. He hoped it wasn't anything ridiculous or embarrassing that it would make his image go down in her eyes. Well, now that she had seen him drunk he would _definitely_ go down.

He really had to make it up to her somehow, but not today. She said something about having to do something on the weekend, though she never explained why she had called those days off. All she said was that they would get sick of each other by the time the weekend rolled around, and she was right. But there was something about her answer that was very half-assed. Like that was only part of the reason she called the weekends off.

He turned the water off and reluctantly moved out of the heat, instead getting dressed and putting on a blue v-neck and jeans.

What did she do on the weekend anyway? Not that he necessarily cared, but he didn't see her at all; only on the weekdays. Did she have this super secret job that she didn't want him finding out about? Was April a stripper - oh, the pious schoolgirl was a secret dancer?

He shook his head, dissipating the thought. No, she didn't seem like the kind of girl to do that stuff. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but April was just . . . too uptight. Not the kind of girl those places are looking for.

Or maybe she was a spy for McMahon? _God, that would be rich_ , he snickered, putting on a clean pair of socks and shoes. April, a spy? That girl couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it - she had a terrible poker face, and he had called her out on it several times. She was an open book, and he would've been able to tell if she was lying and keeping something that big from him. Besides, that's just too elaborate of a plan to pass by unnoticed.

And maybe she had a boyfriend that she was seeing on the side? Phil couldn't help but feel mock offended. What, he wasn't good enough for her as a fake boyfriend? All joking aside, weren't girls supposed to glow and something when they were head over heels? Phil had seen it with multiple girls he had dated; their cheeks would be flushed, a certain light would be present in their eyes, and they would try to cling to him twenty-four seven. Of course he hadn't felt the same way, but that didn't mean he hadn't seen the symptoms.

But April was still stoic, only breaking character to yell at him when he got too annoying. So he supposed that option was also out.

He sighed. So what was it that she did on Saturday and Sunday?

There was only one way to find out.

He closed the door behind him, locking it securely and making his way back on campus.

It wasn't that he was concerned about April's personal life, but he needed to find out what she was up to because he was so damn curious. Oh, and he had to apologize for being the shittiest person on earth and he had to make it up to her somehow. Phil would say that it was so she could still help him out with the whole Vince McMahon thing, but the truth of the matter was that she was too nice and he was too mean and he needed to tell her he was sorry.

He touched the university gates momentarily before walking onto the sidewalk. In what direction he should start going towards, he didn't know.

A little flickering bulb appeared on his head as he thought of the first place she would obviously be at - the library.

Phil started walking north and was eventually faced with the huge, looming, brick building that contained the university's - and some of the world's - knowledge. Or something like that. He kind of zoned out on the tour he went on before he came to the college.

It was around ten, so the library was just starting to get a little busy. It didn't take long for him to find April - she was wearing a snug, green sweater and jeans. Her glasses were carefully perched on her nose, and her hair was in a high ponytail with her brown curls cascading down her back. She was currently typing furiously away on her laptop, and her textbooks and notebooks were stacked cleanly beside her.

He gave himself a mental high five at finding her at such an opportune time, but was also confused as to why she had to set aside two days just to study. Didn't she do that on the weekdays? Or was she always so busy dealing with him and his antics that she never had time to?

Phil began to stride towards her, but stopped when he saw another guy go to her table and rasp his knuckles on it, catching her attention. She looked up at him and her eyes widened. Her normally stoic look was changed into something more friendly, more open.

What the hell?

April was pretty short, and this guy with mussed blond hair and a lumberjack beard was just a few inches taller than her. The guy began to pick up her books - which she didn't protest - and she folded her laptop away in her bag before the two left the library, stirring the air behind them.

What.

The.

Hell?


End file.
